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Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2007  with  funding  from 

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http://www.archive.org/details/donnerexpeditionOOhougrich 


THE  EXPEDITION 
OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

AND  ITS  TRAGIC  FATE 


Copyright 

GRAFTON  PUBLISHING  CORPORATION 

1920 


Press  of  the 

WOLFER  PRINTING  COMPANY 

Los  Anjfeles,  California 


THE  EXPEDITION 
OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

AND  ITS  TRAGIC  FATE 


BY 

^y^,^  ELIZA  p.(donner;houghton 


ILLUSTRATED 


GLENDALE,  CALIFORNIA,  U.  S.  A. 
THE    ARTHUR    H.    CLARK    COMPANY 
1920 


.=:^^^, 


«-i^tt»^*-ti^        p    J 


gjpTirAoit  Library 


*  My  Husband  and  ?ny  Children 

(  and  to 

My  Sister  Georgia 
'This  Book  is  Lovingly  Dedicated 


r*        i  Cryvyi.'KJLA^    /&^rT^^XZ<»-i^ 


(Tl^^/ 


PRP]FACE 

OUT  of  the  sunshine  and  shadows  of  sixty-eight 
years  come  these  personal  recollections  of  Cali- 
fornia —  of  the  period  when  American  civilization  first 
crossed  its  mountain  heights  and  entered  its  overland 
gateways. 

I  seem  to  hear  the  tread  of  many  feet,  the  lowing  of 
many  herds,  and  know  they  are  the  re-echoing  sounds 
of  the  sturdy  pioneer  homeseekers.  Travel-stained 
and  weary,  yet  triumphant  and  happy,  most  of  them 
reach  their  various  destinations,  and  their  trying  ex- 
periences and  valorous  deeds  are  quietly  interwoven 
with  the  general  history,  of  the  State. 

Not  so,  however,  the  * '  Donner  Party, ' '  of  which  my 
father  was  captain.  Like  fated  trains  of  other  epochs 
whose  privations,  sufferings,  and  self-sacrifices  have 
added  renown  to  colonization  movements  and  served 
as  danger  signals  to  later  wayfarers,  that  party  began 
its  journey  with  song  of  hope,  and  within  the  first 
milestone  of  the  promised  land  ended  it  with  a  prayer 
for  help.  **  Help  for  the  helpless  in  the  storms  of  the 
Sierra  Nevada  Mountains!  '* 

And  I,  a  child  then,  scarcely  four  years  of  age,  was 
too  young  to  do  more  than  watch  and  suffer  with  other 

[vii] 


PREFACE 

children  the  lesser  privations  of  our  snow-beleaguered 
camp;  and  with  them  survive,  because  the  fathers 
and  mothers  hungered  in  order  that  the  children  might 
live. 

Scenes  of  loving  care  and  tenderness  were  embla- 
zoned on  my  mind.  Scenes  of  anguish,  pain,  and  dire 
distress  were  branded  on  my  brain  during  days,  weeks, 
and  months  of  famine, —  famine  which  reduced  the 
party  from  eighty-one  souls  to  forty-five  survivors,  be- 
fore the  heroic  relief  men  from  the  settlements  could 
accomplish  their  mission  of  humanity. 

Who  better  than  survivors  knew  the  heart-rending 
circumstances  of  life  and  death  in  those  mountain 
camps?  Yet  who  can  wonder  that  tenderest  recollec- 
tions and  keenest  heartaches  silenced  their  quivering 
lips  for  many  years;  and  left  opportunities  for  false 
and  sensational  details  to  be  spread  by  morbid  collect- 
ors of  food  for  excitable  brains,  and  for  prolific  his- 
torians who  too  readily  accepted  exaggerated  and 
unauthentic  versions  as  true  statements? 

Who  can  wonder  at  my  indignation  and  grief  in  little 
girlhood,  when  I  was  told  of  acts  of  brutality,  in- 
humanity, and  cannibalism,  attributed  to  those  starved 
parents,  who  in  life  had  shared  their  last  morsels  of 
food  with  helpless  companions? 

Who  can  wonder  that  I  then  resolved  that,  **  When 
I  grow  to  be  a  woman  I  shall  tell  the  story  of  my  party 
so  clearly  that  no  one  can  doubt  its  truth  ''?  Who 
can  doubt  that  my  resolve  has  been  ever  kept  fresh 
in  mind,  by  eager  research  for  verification  and  by 

[  viii  ] 


PEEFACE 

diligent  communication  with  older  survivors,  and  res- 
cuers sent  to  our  relief,  who  answered  my  many  ques- 
tions and  cleared  my  obscure  points! 

And  now,  when  blessed  with  the  sunshine  of  peace 
and  happiness,  I  am  finishing  my  work  of  filial  love 
and  duty  to  my  party  and  the  State  of  my  adoption, 
who  can  wonder  that  I  find  on  my  chain  of  remem- 
brance countless  names  marked,  ^^  forget  me  not  ''? 
Among  the  many  to  whom  I  became  greatly  indebted  in 
my  young  womanhood  for  valuable  data  and  gracious 
encouragement  in  my  researches  are  General  William 
Tecumseh  Sherman,  General  John  A.  Sutter,  Mrs. 
Ulysses  S.  Grant,  Mrs.  Jessie  Benton  Fremont,  Hon- 
orable Allen  Francis,  and  C.  F.  McGlashan,  author  of 
the  **  History  of  the  Donner  Party.'' 

My  fondest  affection  must  ever  cling  to  the  dear, 
quaint  old  pioneer  men  and  women,  whose  hand-clasps 
were  warmth  and  cheer,  and  whose  givings  were  like 
milk  and  honey  to  my  desolate  childhood.  For  each 
and  all  of  them  I  have  full  measure  of  gratitude,  often 
pressed  down,  and  now  overflowing  to  their  sons  and 
daughters,  for,  with  keenest  appreciation  I  learned 
that,  on  June  10,  1910,  the  order  of  Native  Sons  of 
the  Golden  West  laid  the  corner  stone  of  ^*  Donner 
Monument,''  on  the  old  emigrant  trail  near  the  beau- 
tiful lake  which  bears  the  party's  name.  There  the 
Native  Sons  of  the  Golden  West,  aided  by  the  Native 
Daughters  of  the  Golden  West,  propose  to  erect  a 
memorial  to  all  overland  California  pioneers. 

In  a  letter  to  me  from  Dr.  C.  W.  Chapman,  chair- 

[  ix  ] 


PREFACE 

man .  of  that  monument  committee,  is  the  following 
forceful  paragraph: 

^'  The  Donner  Party  has  been  selected  by  us  as  the 
most  typical  and  as  the  most  varied  and  comprehen- 
sive in  its  experiences  of  all  the  trains  that  made  these 
wonderful  journeys  of  thousands  of  miles,  so  unique 
in  their  daring,  so  brave,  so  worthy  of  the  admiration 
of  man." 

Eliza  P.  Donxer  Houghton. 

Los  Angeles,  California, 
September,  1911. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  I 

PAGE 

The  Pacific  Coast  in  1845  —  Speeches  of  Senator 
Benton  and  Report  of  Capt.  Fremont  —  My  Father 
AND  his  Family  —  Interest  Awakened  in  the  New 
Territory  —  Formation  of  the  First  Emigrant 
Party  from  Illinois  to  California  —  Preparations 
for  the  Journey  —  The  Start  —  On  the  Outskirts 
OF  Civilization    .        .        ...        .        .        .        ,1 

CHAPTER  II 

In  the  Territory  of  Kansas  —  Prairie  Schooners  from 
Santa  Fe  to  Independence,  Mo.  —  Life  en  route  — 
The  Big  Blue  —  Camp  Government  —  The  Blue 
Rover .         .11 

CHAPTER  III 

In  the  Haunts  of  the  Pawnees  —  Letters  of  Mrs. 
George  Donner  —  Halt  at  Fort  Bernard  —  Sioux 
Indians  at  Fort  Laramie 21 

CHAPTER  lY 

Fourth  of  July  in  an  Emigrant  Party  —  Open  Letter 
OF  Lansford  Hastings  —  George  Donner  Elected 
Captain  of  Party  Bound  for  California  —  Enter- 
ing the  Great  Desert  —  Insufficient  Supply  of 
Food  —  Volunteers  Commissioned  by  my  Father  to 
Hasten  to  Sutter  ^s  Fort  for  Relief  .        .        .        .30 

[xi] 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  V 

Bewildering  Guide  Board  —  Soul-Trying  Struggles  — 
First  Snow  —  Reed-Snyder  Tragedy  —  Hardcoop^s 
Fate 39 

CHAPTER  VI 

Indian  Depredations  —  Wolfinger's  Disappearance  — 
Stanton  Returns  with  Supplies  Furnished  by  Capt. 
Sutter  —  Donner  Wagons  Separated  from  Train 
Forever  —  TerribIjE  Piece  of  News  —  Forced  into 
Shelter  at  Donner  Lake  —  Donner  Camp  on  Prosser 
Creek 54 

CHAPTER  VII 

Snowbound  —  Scarcity  of  Food  at  Both  Camps  — 
Watching  for  Return  of  McCutchen  and  Reed    .     64 

CHAPTER  VIII 

Another  Storm  —  Four  Deaths  in  Donner  Camp  — 
Field  Mice  JFsed  for  Food  —  Changed  Appearance 
OF  THE  Starving  —  Sunshine  —  Departure  of  the 
''  Forlorn  Hope  ''  —  Watching  for  Relief  —  Impos- 
sible TO  Disturb  the  Bodies  of  the  Dead  in  Donner 
Camp  —  Arrival  and  Departure  of  First  Relief 
Party  . 68 

CHAPTER  IX 

Sufferings  of  the  ' '  Forlorn  Hope  ' '  —  Resort  to  Hu- 
man Flesh  — ' '  Camp  of  Death  ' '  —  Boots  Crisped 
AND  Eaten  —  Deer  Killed  —  Indian  Rancher ia  — 
The  "  White  Man's  Home  "  at  Last      .        .        .77 

CHAPTER  X 

Relief  Measures  Inaugurated  in  California  —  Dis- 
turbed Conditions  because  of  Mexican  War  —  Gen- 
erous   Subscriptions  —  Three    Parties    Organize  — 

[  xii  1 


CONTENTS 

*'  First  Relief/'  under  Racine  Tucker;  *'  Second 
Relief/'  under  Reed  and  Greenwood;  and  Relay 
Camp  under  Woodworth  —  First  Relief  Party 
Crosses  Snow-Belt  and  Reaches  Donner  Lake      .     91 

CHAPTER  XI 

Watching  for  the  Second  Relief  Party  —  "  Old  Nav- 
ajo " —  Last  Food  in  Camp 100 

CHAPTER  XII 

Arrival  of  Second  Relief,  or  Reed-Greenwood  Party 

—  Few  Survivors  Strong  Enough  to  Travel  — 
Wife's  Choice  —  Partings  at  Donner  Camp  —  My 
Two  Sisters  and  I  Deserted  —  Departure  of  Second 
Relief  Party .  104 

CHAPTER  XIII 

A  Fateful  Cabin  —  Mrs.  Murphy  Gives  Motherly  Com- 
fort —  The  Great  Storm  —  Half  a  Biscuit  —  Arri- 
val OF  Third  Relief  —  ' '  Where  is  My  Boy  ?  "  .         .109 

CHAPTER  XIV 

The  Quest  of  Two  Fathers  —  Second  Relief  in  Dis- 
tress—  Third  Relief  Organized  at  Woodworth 's 
Relay  Camp  —  Divides  and  One  Half  Goes  to  Suc- 
cor Second  Relief  and  Its  Refugees  ;  and  the  Other 
Half  Proceeds  to  Donner  Lake  —  A  Last  Farewell 

—  A  Woman's  Sacrifice 115 

CHAPTER  XV 

Simon  Murphy,  Frances,'  Georgia,  and  I  Taken  from 
the  Lake  Cabins  by  the  Third  BTelief  —  No  Food  to 
Leave  —  Crossing  the  Snow  —  Remnant  of  the  Sec- 
ond Relief  Overtaken  —  Out  of  the  Snow  —  Inci- 
dents OF  THE  Journey  —  Johnson's  Ranch  —  The 
Sinclair  Home  —  Sutter's  Fort  ....  123 
[  xiii  ] 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  XVI 

Elitha  and  Leanna  —  Life  at  the  Fort  —  Watching 
THE  Cow  Path  —  Return  of  the  Fallon  Party  — 
Keseberg  Brought  in  by  Them  —  Father  and 
Mother  Did  Not  Come 132 

CHAPTER  XVII 

Orphans  —  Keseberg  and  His  Accusers  —  Sensational 
Accounts  of  the  Tragedy  at  Donner  Lake  —  Prop- 
erty Sold  and  Guardian  Appointed  —  Kindly  In- 
dians — ' '  Grandpa  ' '  —  Marriage  of  Elitha    .        .  138 

CHAPTER  XVIII 

* '  Grandma  ' '  —  Happy  Visits  —  A  New  Home  —  Am 
Persuaded  to  Leave  It 147 

CHAPTER  XIX 

On  a  Cattle  Ranch  Near  the  Cosumne  River  — ' '  Name 
Billy  ' '  —  I'i^dian  Grub  Feast 156 

CHAPTER  XX 

I  Return  to  Grandma  —  War  Rumors  at  the  Fort  — 
Lingering  Hope  that  My  Mother  might  be  Living 

—  An  Indian  Convoy  —  The  Brunners  and  Their 
Home  165 

CHAPTER  XXI 

Moral  Discipline  —  The  Historical  Pueblo  of  Sonoma 

—  Sugar  Plums  . 181 

CHAPTER  XXII 

Gold  Discovered  — ' '  California  is   Ours  ' '  ^ —  Nursing 
the  Sick  — -  The  U.  S.  Military  Post  —  Burial  of  an 
Officer         .....  ...  192 

r  xiv  1 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  XXIII 

Reaping  and  Threshing  —  A  Pioneer  Funeral  — The 
Homeless  and  Wayfaring  Appeal  to  Mrs.  Brunner 
^Return  of  the  Miners  —  Social  Gatherings  — 
Our  Daily  Routine  —  Stolen  Pleasures  —  A  Little 
Dairymaid  —  My  Dogskin  Shoes      ....  200 

CHAPTER  XXIV 

Mexican  Methods  of  Cultivation  —  First  Steamship 
through  the  Golden  Gate  —  "  The  Argonauts  "  or 
' '  Boys  of  '49  "  —  A  Letter  from  the  States  — 
John  Baptiste  —  Jakie  Leaves  Us  —  The  First 
American  School  in  Sonoma 214 

CHAPTER  XXV 

Fever  Patients  from  the  Mines  —  Unmarked  Graves 
—  The  Tales  and  Taunts  That  Wounded  My  Young 
Heart 226 

CHAPTER  XXVL 

Thank  Offerings  —  Miss  Doty^s  School  —  The  Bond  of 
Kindred  —  In  Jacket  and  Trousers  —  Chum 
Charlie .232 

CHAPTER  XXVII 

Capt.  Frisbie  —  Wedding  Festivities  —  The  Master- 
piece OF  Grandma  ^s  Youth  —  Senora  Vallejo  — 
Jakie 's  Return  —  His  Death  —  A  Cherokee  Indian 
who  had  Stood  by  My  Father's  Grave 242 

CHAPTER  XXVlII 

Elitha,  Frances,  and  Mr.  Miller  Visit  Us  —  Mrs.  Brun- 
ner Claims  Us  as  Her  Children  —  The  Daguerreo- 
type        ....  251 

[xvl 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  XXIX 

Oreat  Smallpox  Epidemic  —  St.  Mary's  Hall  — 
Thanksgiving  Day  in  California  —  Another  Broth- 
er-in-law       255 

CHAPTER  XXX 

Ideals  and  Longings  —  The  Future  —  Christmas         .  264 

CHAPTER  XXXI 

The  Widow  Stein  and  Little  Johnnie  —  ^'  Daughters 
OF  A  Sainted  Mother  ''  —  Estrangement  and  Desola- 
tion—  A  Resolution  and  a  Vow  —  My  People  Ar- 
rive and  Plan  to  Bear  Me  Away     ....  269 

CHAPTER  XXXII 

Grandma's  Return  —  Good-bye  to  the  Dumb  Creatures 

—  Georgia  and  I  are  Off  for  Sacramento        .        .  282 

CHAPTER  XXXIII 

The  Public  Schools  of  Sacramento  —  A  Glimpse  of 
Grandpa  —  THe  "Rancho  de  los  Cazadores  —  My 
Sweetest  Privilege  —  Letters  from  the  Brunners  289 

CHAPTER  XXXIV 

Tragedy  in  Sonoma  —  Christian  Brunner  in  a  Prison 
Cell  —  St.  Catherine's  Convent  at  Benicia  —  Ro- 
mance OF  Spanish  California  —  The  Beautiful 
Angel  in  Black  —  The  Prayer  of  Dona  Concepcion 
Arguello  Realized  —  Monastic  Rites      .        .        .  296 

CHAPTER  XXXV 

The  Chamberlain  Family,  Cousins  of  Daniel  Webster 

—  Jefferson  Grammar  School  — ■  Further  Conflict- 
ing Accounts  of  the  Donner  Party  —  Paternal 
Ancestry  —  S.  0.  Houghton  —  Death  Takes  One  of 
the  Seven  Surviving  Donners 305 

[xvi] 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  XXXVI 
News  of  the  Brunners  —  Letters  from  Grandpa  .        .316 

CHAPTER  XXXVII 
Arrival  of  the  First  Pony  Express     ....  321 

CHAPTER  XXXVIII 

War  and  Rumors  of  War  —  Marriage  —  Sonoma  Re- 
visited  324 

APPENDIX 

I 

Articles  Published  in  The  California  Star  —  Statistics 
OF  the  Party  —  Notes  of  Aguilla  Glover  —  Extract 
FROM  Thornton  —  Recollections  of  John  Baptists 
Trubode        .        . 335 

II 

The  Reed-Greenw^ood  Party,  or  Second  Relief  —  Rem- 
iniscences OF  William  G.  Murphy  —  Concerning 
Nicholas  Clark  and  John  Baptiste         .        .        .  345 

III 

The  Report  of  Thomas  Fallon  —  Deductions  —  State- 
ment OF  Edv^in  Bryant  —  Peculiar  Circumstances  352 

IV 
Lev^^is  Keseberg 360 

Index ,        ,        .373 


[  xvii  ] 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


S.  0.  Houghton 

Eliza  P.  Donner  Houghton 
The  Camp  Attacked  by  Indians 

Our  Stealthy  Foes  • 

Governor  L.  W.  Boggs      .... 
Corral  Such  as  was  Formed  by  Each  Section 

tection  of  its  Cattle     .... 
Fort  Laramie  as  it  Appeared  When  Visited  by 

Party    .         .         .         .         .         . 

Chimney  Rock 

John  Baptiste  Trubode  .... 
Frances  Donner  (Mrs.  Wm.  E.  Wilder)  . 
Georgia  Ann  Donner  (Mrs.  W.  A.  Babcock) 
March  of  the  Caravan  .... 
United  States  Troops  Crossing  the  Desert 
Pass  in  the  Sierra  Nevadas  of  California 
Camp  at  Donner  Lake,  November,  1846  . 
Bear  Valley,  from  Emigrant  Gap  . 
The  Trackless  Mountains  .         .         .         „ 

Sutter's  Fort 

Sam  Brannan's  Store  at  Sutter's  Fort 
Arrival  of  Relief  Party,  February  18,  1847 

Donner  Lake 

Arrival  of  the  Caravan  at  Santa  Fe 
On  the  Banks  of  the  Sacramento  River     . 
Elitha  Donner  (Mrs.  Benjamin  Wilder)    . 

[xix] 


for  the  Pro- 


PAGE 

Frontispiece 
.  vii 
.  8 
.  9 
.     18 


the  Donner 


19 


26 

27 

34 

35 

35 

56 

57 

70 

71 

78 

79 

92 

93 

106 

107 

118 

119 

134 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

Leanna  Donner  (Mrs.  John  App) 134 

Mary  Donner 135 

George  Donner,  Nephew  of  Capt.  Donner     .     .         .         .  135 

Papooses  in  Bickooses       .         .         .         .         .         .     •    .  158 

Sutter's  Mill,  Where  Marshall  Discovered  Gold,  January 

19,  1848 .         .159 

Plaza  and  Barracks  of  Sonoma         .        .        .        .        .  174 
One  of  the  Oldest  Buildings  in  Sonoma     ....  175 

Old  Mexican  Carreta 186 

Residence  of  Judge  A.  L.  Rhodes,  a  Typical  California 

House  of  the  Better  Class  in  1849     .         .         .         .187 
Mission  San  Francisco  Solano,  Last  of  the  Historic  Mis- 
sions of  California 194 

Ruins  of  the  Mission  at  Sonoma 195 

Gold  Rocker,  Washing  Pan,  and  Gold  Borer    .         .         .  206 
Scene   During  the   Rush  to   the   Gold  Mines   from   San 

Francisco,  in  j.848 .207 

Post  Office,  Corner  of  Clay  and  Pike  Streets,  San  Fran- 
cisco, 1849 218 

Old  City  Hotel,  1846,  Corner  of  Kearney  and  Clay  Streets, 

The  First  Hotel  in  San  Francisco        ....  219 
Mrs.  Brunner,  Georgia  and  Eliza  Donner         .         .         .  256 
S.  0.  Houghton,  Member  of  Col.  J.  D.  Stevenson's  First 
Regiment  of  N.  Y.  Volunteers     .....  257 

Eliza  P.  Donner 257 

Sacramento  City  in  the  Early  Fifties      ....  278 
Front  Street,  Sacramento  City,  1850       ....  279 

Pines   of   the    Sierras       . 290 

Col.  J.  D.  Stevenson         .         .         .         .         .         .         .291 

General  John  A.  Sutter     .         .         .         .         .         .         .291 

St.  Catherine's  Convent  at  Benicia,  California       .         .  298 
Chapel,  St.  Catherine's  Convent 299 

[XX] 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

The  Cross  at  Donner  Lake 310 

General  Vallejo's  Carriage,  Built  in  England  in  1832      .  326 

General  Vallejo's  Old  Jail .327 

Alder  Creek 340 

Dennison^s  Exchange  and  the  Parker  House,  San  Fran- 
cisco       341 

View  in  the  Grounds  of  the  Houghton  Home  in  San  Jose  356 
The  Houghton  Residence  in  San  Jose,  California    .         .  357 


[xxi] 


4 


NOTE 

I  WISH  to  express  my  appreciation  of  the  courtesies 
and  assistance  kindly  extended  me  by  the  follow- 
ing, in  the  preparation  of  the  illustrations  for  this  book : 
Mr.  Lynwood  Abbott,  ""  Burr-Mclntosh  Magazine, '' 
Mr.  J.  A.  Munk,  donor  of  the  Munk  Library  of  Ari- 
zoniana  to  the  Southwest  Museum,  Mr.  Hector  Alliot, 
Curator  of  the  Southwest  Museum,  the  officers  and 
attendants  of  the  Los  Angeles  Public  Library,  Miss 
Meta  C.  Stofen,  City  Librarian,  Sonoma,  Cal.,  Miss 
Elizabeth  Benton  Fremont,  Mr.  C.  M.  Hunt,  Editor 
'^  Grizzly  Bear,^'  the  Dominican  Sisters  of  St.  Cath- 
erine's Convent  at  Benicia,  Cal.,  and  Mrs.  C.  C. 
Maynard. 

E.  P.  D.  H. 


IN  TRIBUTE 


The  selection  of  the  Donner  Party,  as  indicative  of  the  most 
severo  trials  and  suffering  of  any  of  the  Pioneer  parties  seeking 
California,  caused  the  NATIVE  SONS  AND  DAUGHTERS  OF  THE 
GOLDEN  WEST  to  erect  the  "Pioneer  Monument"  on  the  crest  of 
the  Sierra  Nevada  mountains,  near  Donner  Lake,  on  the  very  spot 
where  many  members  of  that  party  perished  during  the  winter  of 
1846-7. 

The  supporting  pedestal  of  this  monument,  built  of  stones 
gathered  from  the  old  camp  site,  is  twenty-two  feet  in  height  and 
marks  the  depth  of  the  snow  during  that  fateful  winter.  The 
height  of  the  bronze  figure  of  the  man  is  seventeen  and  a  half  feet 
and  that  of  the  woman  fifteen  feet.  The  metal  thereof  weighs  ten 
tons.  There  are  but  three  larger  bronze  statues  in  the  United 
States,  being  those  of  the  Liberty,  Lincoln  and  Calhoun  monuments. 

Under  such  snow  was  buried  the  little  log  cabins,  so  hastily 
constructed,  from  which  it  was  necessary  for  the  Donner  Party  to 
dig  out  and  keep  the  passage  ways,  or  stairways  as  they  were,  open. 

It  was  here,  in  such  surroundings,  practically  without  food,  that 
Mrs.  Tamsen  Donner,  wife  of  the  leader  of  this  party,  took  her  three 
little  girls  into  her  arms  and  pressed  them  to  her  bosom  for  the 
last  time  as  she  kissed  them  good-bye  and  intrusted  them  to  the 
kindly  care  of  one  of  the  rescue  parties.  It  was  also  near  here  that 
she  soon  afterwards  contributed  her  life  to  the  cause  of  the  pioneer, 
after  having  nursed  her  husband  until  the  time  of  his  death. 

This  is  a  wonderful  story  of  fact:  and  aside  from  its  national 
historical  value  appeals  to  us  as  one  of  the  most  beneficial  books  in 
print — especially  so  for  the  youth  of  impressionistic  age — for  it 
subconsciously  teaches  by  facts  coarage,  obedience,  will  power, 
unselfishness,  heroism,  love  and  charity.  For  all  readers  it  is  more 
thrilling  than  romance  and  valuable  than  fiction. 

THE  PUBLISHERS. 


Pioneer  Monument,  John  McQuarrie,  Sculptor,  stands  near  Donner 
Lake  and  the  Lincoln  Highway.     It  was  erected  by  the  Native 
Sons  and  Daughters  of  the  Golden  \Vest  and  was  unveiled 
June  6th,  1918.    From  left  to  right  are  Gov.  Boyd  of  Ne- 
vada,  Mrs.   Martha  J.  Reed  Lewis,   Mrs.  Eliza  P. 
Houghton  Donner,  the  Author,  and  her  sister, 
Mrs.  Frances  E.  Donner  Wilder  (the  latter 
three  being  survivors   of  the   Donner 
Party)     and     Gov.     Stephens     of 
California. 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE 
DONNER  PARTY 


CHAPTER  I 

THE  PACIFIC  COAST  IN  1845 SPEECHES  OF  SENATOR  BEN^- 

TON   AND  PiEPORT  OF   CAPT.   FREMONT MY  FATHER  AND 

HIS    FAMILY INTEREST    AWAKENED    IN    THE    NEW    TER- 
RITORY  FORMATION     OF     THE     FIRST    EMIGRANT    PARTY 

FROM  ILLINOIS  TO  CALIFORNIA PREPARATIONS  FOR  THE 

JOURNEY THE        START ON        THE        OUTSKIRTS        OF 

CIVILIZATION. 

PRIOR  to  the  year  1845,  that  great  domain  lying 
west  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  and  extending  to 
the  Pacific  Ocean  was  practically  unknown.  About  that 
time,  however,  the  spirit  of  inquiry  was  awakening. 
The  powerful  voice  of  Senator  Thomas  H.  Benton  was 
heard,  both  in  public  address  and  in  the  halls  of  Con- 
gress, calling  attention  to  Oregon  and  California. 
Captain  John  C.  Fremont's  famous  topographical  re- 
port and  maps  had  been  acce{)ted  by  Congress,  and 
ten  thousand  copies  ordered  to  be  printed  and  dis- 
tributed to  the  people  throughout  the  United  States. 
The  commercial  world  was  not  slow  to  appreciate  the 

[1] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

value  of  those  distant  and  hitherto  unfrequented  har- 
bors. Tales  of  the  equable  climate  and  the  marvellous 
fertility  of  the  soil  spread  rapidly,  and  it  followed 
that  before  the  close  of  1845,  pioneers  on  the  western 
frontier  of  our  ever  expanding  republic  were  prepar- 
ing to  open  a  wagon  route  to  the  Pacific  coast. 

After  careful  investigation  and  consideration,  my 
father,  George  Donner,  and  his  elder  brother,  Jacob, 
decided  to  join  the  westward  migration,  selecting  Cal- 
ifornia as  their  destination.  My  mother  was  in  accord 
with  my  father's  wishes,  and  helped  him  to  carry  out 
his  plan. 

At  this  time  he  was  sixty-two  years  of  age,  large, 
fine-looking,  and  in  perfect  health.  He  was  of  Ger- 
man parentage,  born  of  Revolutionary  stock  just  after 
the  close  of  the  war.  The  spirit  of  adventure,  with 
which  he  was  strongly  imbued,  had  led  him  in  his 
youth  from  Nortn  Carolina,  his  native  State,  to  tlie 
land  of  Daniel  Boone,  thence  to  Indiana,  to  Illinois,  to 
Texas,  and  ultimately  back  to  Illinois,  while  still  in 
manhood's  prime. 

By  reason  of  his  geniality  and  integrity,  he  was 
widely  known  as  ''  Uncle  George  ''  in  Sangamon 
County,  Illinois,  where  he  had  broken  the  virgin  soil 
two  and  a  half  miles  from  Springfield,  when  that  place 
was  a  small  village.  There  he  built  a  home,  acquired 
wealth,  and  took  an  active  part  in  the  development  of 
the  country  round  about. 

Twice  had  he  been  married,  and  twice  bereft  by 
death  when  he  met  my  mother,  Tamsen  Eustis  Dozier, 

[2] 


STUDY  OF  PACIFIC  COAST 

then  a  widow,  whom  he  married  May  24,  1839.  She 
•was  a  native  of  Newburyport,  Massachusetts.  She  was 
cultured,  and  had  been  a  successful  teacher  and  writer. 
Their  home  became  the  local  literary  centre  after  she 
was  installed  as  its  mistress. 

My  father  had  two  sons  and  eight  daughters  when 
she  became  his  wife ;  but  their  immediate  family  circle 
consisted  only  of  his  aged  parents,  and  Elitha  and 
Leanna,  young  daughters  of  his  second  marriage,  un- 
til July  8,  1840,  when  blue-eyed  Frances  Eustis  was 
born  to  them.  On  the  fourth  of  December,  1841, 
brown-eyed  Georgia  Ann  was  added  to  the  number; 
and  on  the  eighth  of  March,  1843,  I  came  into  this 
world. 

I  grew  to  be  a  healthy,  self-reliant  child,  a  staff  to 
my  sister  Georgia,  who,  on  account  of  a  painful  acci- 
dent and  long  illness  during  her  first  year,  did  not 
learn  to  walk  steadily  until  after  I  was  strong  enough 
to  help  her  to  rise,  and  lead  her  to  a  sand  pile  near  the 
orchard,  where  we  played  away  the  bright  days  of  two 
uneventful  years. 

With  the  approaching  Winter  of  1845  popular  inter- 
est in  the  great  territory  to  the  west  of  us  spread  to 
our  community.  Maps  and  reports  were  eagerly  stud- 
ied. The  few  old  letters  which  had  been  received 
from  traders  and  trappers  alongithe  Pacific  coast  were 
brought  forth  for  general  perusal.  The  course  of  the 
reading  society  which  met  weekly  at  our  home  was 
changed,  in  order  that  my  mother  might  read  to  those 
assembled  the  publications  which  had  kindled  in  my 

[3] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

father  and  uncle  the  desire  to  migrate  to  the  land  so 
alluringly  described.  Prominent  among  these  works 
were  **  Travels  Among  the  Rocky  Mountains,  Through 
Oregon  and  California,''  by  Lansford  W.  Hastings, 
and  also  the  "  Topographical  Report,  with  Maps  At- 
tached,'' by  Captain  Fremont,  which  has  been  already 
mentioned. 

The  Springfield  Journal,  published  by  Mr.  Allen 
Francis,  appeared  with  glowing  editorials,  strongly 
advocating  emigration  to  the  Pacific  coast,  and  its  col- 
umns contained  notices  of  companies  forming  in 
Southern  and  Southwestern  States,  each  striving  to 
be  ready  to  join  the  *^  Great  Overland  Caravan," 
scheduled  to  leave  Independence,  Missouri,  for  Ore- 
gon, early  in  May,  1846. 

Mr.  James  F.  Reed,  a  well-known  resident  of  Spring- 
field, was  amon^  those  who  urged  the  formation  of  a 
company  to  go  directly  from  Sangamon  County  to  Cal- 
ifornia. Intense  interest  was  manifested;  and  had  it 
not  been  for  the  widespread  financial  depression  of 
that  year,  a  large  number  would  have  gone  from  that 
vicinity.  The  great  cost  of  equipment,  however,  kept 
back  many  who  desired  to  make  the  long  journey. 

As  it  was,  James  F.  Reed,  his  wife  and  four  chil- 
dren, and  Mrs.  Keyes,  the  mother  of  Mrs.  Reed;  Ja- 
cob Donner,  his  wife,  and  seven  children;  and  George 
Donner,  his  wife,  and  five  children;  also  their  team- 
sters and  camp  assistants, —  thirty-two  persons  all 
told, —  constituted  the  first  emigrant  party  from  Illi- 
nois to  California.     The  plan  was  to  join  the  Oregon 

[4] 


EQUIPMENT  OF  SETTLERS 

caravan  at  Independence,  Missouri,  continue  with  it  to 
Fort  Hall,  and  thence  follow  Fremont's  route  to  the 
Bay  of  San  Francisco. 

The  preparations  made  for  the  journey  by  my  par- 
ents were  practical.  Strong,  commodious  emigrant 
wagons  were  constructed  especially  for  the  purpose. 
The  oxen  to  draw  them  were  hardy,  well  trained,  and 
rapid  walkers.  Three  extra  yoke  were  provided  for 
emergencies.  Cows  were  selected  to  furnish  milk  on 
the  way.  A  few  young  beef  cattle,  five  saddle-horses, 
and  a  good  watch-dog  completed  the  list  of  live  stock. 

After  carefully  calculating  the  requisite  amount  of 
provisions,  father  stored  in  his  wagons  a  quantity  that 
was  deemed  more  than  sufficient  to  last  until  we  should 
reach  California.  Seed  and  implements  for  use  on  the 
prospective  farms  in  the  new  country  also  constituted 
an  important  part  of  our  outfit.  Nor  was  that  all. 
There  were  bolts  of  cheap  cotton  prints,  red  and  yel- 
low flannels,  bright-bordered  handkerchiefs,  glass 
beads,  necklaces,  chains,  brass  finger  rings,  earrings, 
pocket  looking-glasses  and  divers  other  knickknacks 
dear  to  the  hearts  of  aborigines.  These  were  intended 
for  distribution  as  peace  offerings  among  the  Indians. 
Lastly,  there  were  rich  stores  of  laces,  muslins,  silks, 
satins,  velvets  and  like  cherished  fabrics,  destined  to 
be  used  in  exchange  for  Mexican  land-grants  in  that 
far  land  to  which  we  were  bound. 

My  mother  was  energetic  in  all  these  preparations, 
but  her  special  province  was  to  make  and  otherwise 
get  in  readiness  a  bountiful  supply  of  clothing.     She 

[5] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

also  superintended  the  purchase  of  materials  for 
women's  handiwork,  apparatus  for  preserving  botan- 
ical specimens,  water  colors  and  oil  paints,  books  and 
school  supplies;  these  latter  being  selected  for  use  in 
the  young  ladies'  seminary  which  she  hoped  to  estab- 
lish in  California. 

A  liberal  sum  of  money  for  meeting  incidental  ex- 
penses and  replenishing  supplies  on  the  journey,  if 
need  be,  was  stored  in  the  compartments  of  two  wide 
buckskin  girdles,  to  be  worn  in  concealment  about  the 
person.  An  additional  sum  of  ten  thousand  dollars, 
cash,  was  stitched  between  the  folds  of  a  quilt  for 
safe  transportation.  This  was  a  large  amount  for 
those  days,  and  few  knew  that  my  parents  were 
carrying  it  with  them.  I  gained  my  information  con- 
cerning it  in  later  years  from  Mr.  Francis,  to  whom 
they  showed  it. 

To  each  of  his  grown  children  my  father  deeded  a 
fair  share  of  his  landed  estate,  reserving  one  hundred 
and  ten  acres  near  the  homestead  for  us  five  younger 
children,  who  in  course  of  time  might  choose  to  re- 
turn to  our  native  State. 

As  time  went  on,  our  preparations  were  frequently 
interrupted  by  social  obligations,  farewell  visits,  din- 
ners, and  other  merrymakings  with  friends  and  kin- 
dred far  and  near.  Thursday,  April  15,  1846,  was  the 
day  fixed  for  our  departure,  and  the  members  of  our 
household  were  at  work  before  the  rosy  dawn.  We 
children  were  dressed  early  in  our  new  linsey  travel- 
ling suits ;  and  as  the  final  packing  progressed,  we  often 

[61 


FAREWELL  TO  ILLINOIS  HOME 

peeped  out  of  the  window  at  the  three  big  white  cov- 
ered wagons  that  stood  in  our  yard. 

In  the  first  were  stored  the  merchandise  and  arti- 
cles not  to  be  handled  until  they  should  reach  their 
destination;  in  the  second,  provisions,  clothing,  camp 
tools,  and  other  necessaries  of  camp  life.  The  third 
was  our  family  home  on  wheels,  with  feed  boxes  at- 
tached to  the  back  of  the  wagon-bed  for  Fanny  and 
Margaret,  the  favorite  saddle-horses,  which  were  to 
be  kept  ever  close  at  hand  for  emergencies. 

Early  in  the  day,  the  first  two  wagons  started,  each 
drawn  by  three  yoke  of  powerful  oxen,  whose  great 
moist  eyes  looked  as  though  they  too  had  parting  tears 
to  shed.  The  loose  cattle  quickly  followed,  but  it  was 
well  on  toward  noon  before  the  family  wagon  was 
ready. 

Then  came  a  pause  fraught  with  anguish  to  the  dear 
ones  gathered  about  the  homestead  to  say  farewell. 
Each  tried  to  be  courageous,  but  not  one  was  so  brave 
as  father  when  he  bade  good-bye  to  his  friends,  to  his 
children,  and  to  his  children's  children. 

I  sat  beside  my  mother  with  my  hand  clasped  in 
hers,  as  we  slowly  moved  away  from  that  quaint  old 
house  on  its  grassy  knoll,  from  the  orchard,  the  corn 
land,  and  the  meadow;  as  we  passed  through  the  last 
pair  of  bars,  her  clasp  tightened,  and  I,  glancing  up, 
saw  tears  in  her  eyes  and  sorrow  in  her  face.  I  was 
grieved  at  her  pain,  and  in  sympathy  nestled  closer  to 
lier  side  and  sat  so  quiet  that  I  soon  fell  asleep.  When 
I  awoke,  the  sun  still  shone,  but  we  had  encamped  for 

[7] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

the  ^iglit  on  the  ground  where  the  State  House  of  Illi- 
nois now  stands. 

Mr.  Reed  and  family,  and  my  uncle  Jacob  and  fam- 
ily, with  their  travelling  equipments  and  cattle,  were 
already  settled  there.  Under  father's  direction,  our 
own  encampment  was  soon  accomplished.  By  night- 
fall, the  duties  of  the  day  were  ended,  and  the  mem- 
bers of  our  party  gathered  around  one  fire  to  spend 
a  social  hour. 

Presently,  the  clatter  of  galloping  horses  was  heard, 
and  shortly  thereafter  eight  horsemen  alighted,  and 
with  merry  greetings  joined  our  circle.  They  were 
part  of  the  reading  society,  and  had  come  to  hold  its 
last  reunion  beside  our  first  camp-fire.  Mr.  Francis 
was  among  them,  and  took  an  inventory  of  the  com- 
pany's outfit  for  the  benefit  of  the  readers  of  The 
Springfield  JournaL 

They  piled  more  wood  on  the  blazing  fire,  making  it 
a  beacon  light  to  those  who  were  watching  from  afar ; 
they  sang  songs,  told  tales,  and  for  the  time  being 
drove  homesickness  from  our  hearts.  Then  they  rode 
away  in  the  moonlight,  and  our  past  was  a  sweet  mem- 
ory, our  future  a  beautiful  dream. 

William  Donner,  my  half-brother,  came  to  camp 
early  next  morning  to  help  us  to  get  the  cattle  started, 
and  to  accompany  us  as  far  as  the  outskirts  of 
civilization. 

We  reached  Independence,  Missouri,  on  the  eleveiitli 
of  May,  with  our  wagons  and  cattle  in  prime  condition, 
and  our  people  in  the  best  of  spirits.    Our  party  en- 

[8] 


OUTFITTING  AT  INDEPENDENCE 

camped  near  that  bustling  frontier  town,  and  were 
soon  a  part  of  the  busy  crowds,  making  ready  for  the 
great  prairie  on  the  morrow.  Teams  thronged  the 
highways ;  troops  of  men,  women,  and  children  hurried 
nervously  about  seeking  information  and  replenish- 
ing supplies.  Jobbers  on  the  street  were  crying  their 
wares,  anxious  to  sell  anything  or  everything  re- 
quired, from  a  shoestring  to  a  complete  outfit  for  a 
four  months'  journey  across  the  plains.  Beads  of 
sweat  clung  to  the  merchants'  faces  as  they  rushed  to 
and  fro,  filling  orders.  Brawny  blacksmiths,  with 
breasts  bared  and  sleeves  rolled  high,  hammered  and 
twisted  red  hot  metal  into  the  divers  forms  necessary 
to  repair  yokes  and  wagons. 

Good  fellowship  prevailed  as  strangers  met,  each 
anxious  to  learn  something  of  those  who  might  by 
chance  become  his  neighbors  in  line. 

Among  the  pleasant  acquaintances  made  that  day, 
was  Mr.  J.  Q.  Thornton,  a  young  attorney  from 
Quincy,  Illinois,  who,  with  his  invalid  wife,  was  emi- 
grating to  Oregon.  He  informed  us  that  himself  and 
wife  and  ex-Governor  Boggs  and  family,  of  Missouri, 
were  hourly  expecting  Alphonso  Boone,  grandson  of 
Daniel  Boone ;  and  that  as  soon  as  Boone  and  his  fam- 
ily should  arrive  from  Kentucky,  they  would  all  hasten 
on  to  join  Colonel  Eussell's  California  company,  which 
was  already  on  the  way,  but  had  promised  to  await 
them  somewhere  on  the  Kansas  River. 

It  was  then  believed  that  at  least  seven  thousand 
emigrant  wagons  would  go  West,  through  Independ- 

[9] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

ence,  that  season.  Obviously  the  journey  should  be 
made  while  pasturage  and  water  continued  plentiful 
along  the  route.  Our  little  party  at  once  determined 
to  overtake  Colonel  Russell  and  apply  for  admission 
to  his  train,  and  for  that  purpose  we  resumed  travel 
early  on  the  morning  of  May  twelfth. 

As  we  drove  up  Main  Street,  delayed  emigrants 
waved  us  a  light-hearted  good-bye,  and  as  we  ap- 
proached the  building  of  the  American  Tract  Society, 
its  agent  came  to  our  wagons  and  put  into  the  hand 
of  each  child  a  New  Testament,  and  gave  to  eacli  adult 
a  Bible,  and  also  tracts  to  distribute  among  the  hea- 
then in  the  benighted  land  to  which  we  were  going. 
Near  the  outskirts  of  town  we  parted  from  William 
Donner,  took  a  last  look  at  Independence,  turned  our 
backs  to  the  morning  sun,  and  became  pioneers  indeed 
to  the  Far  West. 


[101 


CHAPTER  II 

IN  THE  TERKITOEY  OF  KANSAS PRAIRIE  SCHOONERS  FROM 

SANTA    FE    TO    INDEPENDENCE,    MO. LIFE    611    VOUte 

THE       BIG      BLUE CAMP       GOVERNMENT THE       Blue 

Rover, 

DURING  our  first  few  days  in  the  Territory  of 
Kansas  we  passed  over  g#od  roads,  and  through 
fields  of  May  blossoms  musical  with  the  hum  of  bees 
and  the  songs  of  birds.  Some  of  the  party  rode  horse- 
back; others  walked  in  advance  of  the  train;  but  each 
father  drove  his  own  family  team.  We  little  folk  sat 
in  the  wagons  with  our  dolls,  watching  the  huge  white- 
covered  '''  prairie  schooners  ''  coming  from  Santa  Fe 
to  Independence  for  merchandise.  We  could  hear 
them  from  afar,  for  the  great  wagons  were  drawn  by 
four  or  five  span  of  travel-worn  horses  or  mules,  and 
above  the  hames  of  each  poor  beast  was  an  arch  hung 
with  from  three  to  five  clear-toned  bells,  that  .jingled 
merrily  as  their  carriers  moved  along,  guided  by  a 
happy-go-lucky  driver,  usually  singing  or  whistling  a 
gleeful  tune.  Both  man  and  beast  looked  longingly 
toward  the  town,  which  promised  companionship  and 
revelry  to  the  one,  and  rest  and  fodder  to  the  other. 

We   overtook   similar  wagons,  heavily  laden  with 
goods  bound  for  Santa  Fe.    Most  of  the  drivers  were 

[11] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

shrewd;  all  of  them  civil.  They  were  of  various  na- 
tionalities ;  some  comfortably  clad,  others  in  tatters^ 
and  a  few  in  picturesque  threadbare  costumes  of 
Spanish  finery.  Those  hardy  wayfarers  gave  us  much 
valuable  information  regarding  the  route  before  us, 
and  the  Indian  tribes  we  should  encounter.  We  were 
now  averaging  a  distance  of  about  two  and  a  half  miles 
an  hour,  and  encamping  nights  where  fuel  and  water 
could  be  obtained. 

Early  on  the  nineteenth  of  May  we  reached  Colonel 
RusselPs  camp  on  Soldiers'  Creek,  a  tributary  of  the 
Kansas  River.  The  following  account  of  the  meeting 
held  by  the  company  after  our  arrival  is  from  the  jour- 
nal of  Mr.  Edwin  Bryant,  author  of  ^ '  What  I  Saw  in 
California  '': 

May  19,  1846.  A  new  census  of  our  party  was  taken 
this  morning ;  and  it  was  found  to  consist  of  98  fighting  men, 
50  women,  46  wagons,  4nd  350  cattle.  Two  divisions  were 
made  for  convenience  in  travelling.  We  were  joined  to-day 
by  nine  wagons  from  Illinois  belonging  to  Mr.  Reed  and 
Messrs.  Donner,  highly  respectable  and  intelligent  gentlemen 
with  interesting  families.  They  were  received  into  the  com- 
pany by  a  unanimous  vote. 

Our  cattle  were  allowed  to  rest  that  day;  and  while 
the  men  were  hunting  and  fishing,  the  women  spread 
the  family  washings  on  the  boughs  and  bushes  of  that 
well-wooded  stream.  We  children,  who  had  been  con- 
fined to  the  wagon  so  many  hours  each  day,  stretched 
our  limbs,  and  scampered  off  on  Mayday  frolics.  We 
waded  the  creek,  made  mud  pies,  and  gathered  posies 
in  the  narrow  glades  between  the  cottonwood,  beech, 
and  alder  trees.     Colonel  Russell  was  courteous  to  alJ ; 

[12] 


OEGANIZATION  OF  EMIGEANT  TEAIN 

visited  the  new  members,  and  secured  their  cheerful 
indorsement  of  his  carefully  prepared  plan  of  travel. 
He  was  at  the  head  of  a  representative  body  of  pio- 
neers, including  lawyers,  journalists,  teachers,  stu- 
dents, farmers,  and  day-laborers,  also  a  minister  of  the 
gospel,  a  carriage-maker,  a  cabinet-maker,  a  stone- 
mason, a  jeweller,  a  blacksmith,  and  women  versed  in 
all  branches  of  woman's  work.  ' 

The  government  of  these  emigrant  trains  was  essen- 
tially democratic  and  characteristically  American.  A 
captain  was  chosen,  and  all  plans  of  action  and  rules 
and  regulations  were  proposed  at  a  general  assembly, 
and  accepted  or  rejected  by  majority  vote.  Conse- 
quently, Colonel  EusselPs  function  was  to  preside 
over  meetings,  lead  the  train,  locate  camping  ground, 
select  crossings  over  fordable  streams,  and  direct  the 
construction  of  rafts  and  other  exDedients  for  trans- 
portation over  deep  waters. 

A  trumpet  call  aroused  the  camp  at  dawn  the  fol- 
lowing morning;  by  seven  o'clock  breakfast  had  been 
cooked  and  served,  and  the  company  was  in  marching 
order.  The  weather  was  fine,  and  we  followed  the  trail 
of  the  Kansas  Indians,  toward  the  Big  Blue. 

At  nooning  our  teams  stood  in  line  on  the  road 
chewing  the  cud  and  taking  their  breathing  spell,  while 
families  lunched  on  the  grass  in  restful  picnic  style. 
Suddenly  a  gust  of  wind  swept  by;  the  sky  turned  a 
greenish  gray;  black  clouds  drifted  over  the  face  of 
the  sun;  ominous  sounds  came  rumbling  from  distant 
hills,  and  before  our  effects  could  be  collected  and 

[131 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

returned    to    cover,    a     terrific    thunderstorm    was 
upon  us. 

We  were  three  hours'  distance  from  our  evening 
camp-ground  and  our  drivers  had  to  walk  and  face  that 
buffeting  storm  in  order  to  keep  control  of  the  nervous 
cattle.  It  was  still  raining  when  we  reached  the  knoll 
where  we  could  spend  the  night.  Our  men  were  tired 
and  drenched,  some  of  them  cross;  fires  were  out  of 
the  question  until  fuel  could  be  cut  and  brought  from 
the  edge  of  a  swamp  a  mile  from  camp.  When 
brought,  the  green  wood  smoked  so  badly  that  suppers 
were  late  and  rather  cheerless;  still  there  was  spirit 
enough  left  in  those  stalwart  hearts  to  start  some 
mirth-provoking  ditty,  or  indulge  in  good-natured 
raillery  over  the  joys  and  comforts  of  pioneering. 

Indians  had  followed  our  train  all  day,  and  as  we 
had  been  warned  against  leaving  temptation  within 
reach,  the  cattle  were  corralled  early  and  their  guards 
doubled.  Happily,  the  night  passed  without  alarm  or 
losses.  The  following  day  we  were  joined  by  ex-Gov- 
ernor Boggs  and  companions,  and  lost  Mr.  Jordan  and 
friends  of  Jackson,  Missouri,  who  drew  their  thirteen 
wagons  out  of  line,  saying  that  their  force  was  strong 
enough  to  travel  alone,  and  that  Captain  Russell's 
company  had  become  too  large  for  rapid  or  convenient 
handling. 

We  covered  fourteen  miles  that  day  over  a  beautiful 
rolling  prairie,  dotted  with  Indian  lodges.  Frequently 
their  owners  walked  or  rode  beside  our  wagons,  ask- 
ing for  presents. 

\U] 


TEADE  WITH  THE  INDIANS 

Mrs.  Kehi-go-wa-clmck-ee  was  made  iiappy  by  tlie 
gift  of  a  dozen  strings  of  glass  beads,  and  the  chief 
also  kindly  accepted  a  few  trinkets  and  a  contribution 
of  tobacco,  and  provisions,  after  which  he  made  the 
company  understand'  that  for  a  consideration  payable 
in  cotton  prints,  tobacco,  salt  pork,  and  flour,  he  him- 
self and  his  trusted  braves  would  become  escort  to 
the  train  in  order  to  protect  its  cattle  from  harm,  and 
its  wagons  from  the  pilfering  hands  of  his  tribesmen. 
His  offer  was  accepted,  with  the  condition  that  he 
should  not  receive  any  of  the  promised  goods  until  the 
last  wagon  was  safe  beyond  his  territory.  This  bar- 
gain was  faithfully  kept,  and  when  we  parted  from 
the  Indians,  they  proceeded  to  immediate  and  hilari- 
ous enjoyment  of  the  ujiwonted  luxuries  thus  earned. 

We  were  now  in  line  with  spring  storms,  which  made 
us  victims  of  frequent  downpours  and  cyclonic  winds. 
The  roads  were  heavy,  and  the  banks  of  streams  so 
steep  that  often  the  wagons  had  to  be  lowered  by  aid 
of  rope  and  chain.  Fortunately  our  people  were  able 
to  take  these  trying  situations  philosophically,  and 
were  ever  ready  to  enjoy  the  novelties  of  intervening 
hours  of  calm  and  sunshine. 

The  staid  and  elderly  matrons  spent  most  of  their 
time  in  their  wagons,  knitting  or  patching  designs  for 
quilts.  The  younger  ones  and  the  girls  passed  theirs 
in  the  saddle.  They  would  scatter  in  groups  over  the 
plains  to  investigate  distant  objects,  then  race  back, 
and  with  song  and  banter  join  husband  and  brother, 
driving  the  loose  cattle  in  the  rear.     The  wild,  free 

115] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

spirit  of  the  plain  often  prompted  them  to  invite  us 
little  ones  to  seats  behind  them,  and  away  we  would 
canter  with  the  breeze  playing  through  our  hair  and 
giving  a  ruddy  glow  to  our  cheeks. 

Mr.  Edwin  Bryant,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Thornton,  and  my 
mother  were  enthusiastic  searchers  for  botanical  and 
geological  specimens.  They  delved  into  the  ground, 
turning  over  stones  and  scraping  out  the  crevices,  and 
zealously  penetrated  the  woods  to  gather  mosses, 
roots,  and  flowering  plants.  Of  the  rare  floral  speci- 
mens and  perishable  tints,  my  mother  made  pencil  and 
water-color  studies,  having  in  view  the  book  she  was 
preparing  for  publication. 

On  ascending  the  bluff  overlooking  the  Big  Blue, 
early  on  the  afternoon  of  the  twenty-sixth  of  May,  we 
found  the  river  booming,  and  the  water  still  rising. 
Driftwood  and  good  sized  logs  were  floating  by  on  a 
current  so  strong  that  all  hope  of  fording  it  vanished 
even  before  its  depth  was  measured.  We  encamped  on 
the  slope  of  the  prairie,  near  a  timber  of  cottonwood, 
oak,  beech,  and  sycamore  trees,  where  a  clear  brook 
rushed  over  its  stony  bed  to  join  the  Big  Blue.  Cap- 
tain Russell,  with  my  father  and  other  sub-leaders, 
examined  the  river  banks  for  marks  of  a  ford. 

By  sunset  the  river  had  risen  twenty  inches  and  the 
water  at  the  ford  was  two  hundred  yards  in  width.  A 
general  meeting  was  called  to  discuss  the  situation. 
Many  insisted  that  the  company,  being  comfortably 
settled,  should  wait  until  the  waters  receded;  but  the 
majority  agreeing  with  the  Captain,  voted  to  construct 


GOVERNMENT  AMONG  EMIGRANTS 

a  raft  suitable  to  carry  everything  except  tlie  live 
stock,  which  could  be  forced  to  swim. 

The  assembly  was  also  called  upon  to  settle  a  dif- 
ference between  two  members  of  our  Oregon  contin- 
gent, friendly  intervention  having  induced  the 
disputants  to  suspend  hostilities  until  their  rights 
should  be  thus  determined.  The  assembly,  however^ 
instead  of  passing  upon  the  matter,  appointed  a  com- 
mittee to  devise  a  way  out  of  the  difficulty.  J.  Q. 
Thornton's  work,  **  Oregon  and  California,''  has  this 
reference  to  that  committee,  whose  work  was  signifi- 
cant as  developed  by  later  events : 

Ex-Governor  Boggs,  Mr.  James  F.  Reed,  Mr.  George 
Donner,  and  others,  myself  included,  convened  in  a  tent 
according  to  appointment  of  a  general  assembly  of  the  emi- 
grants, with  the  design  of  preparing  a  sj^stem  of  laws  for  the 
purpose  of  preserving  order,  etc.  We  proposed  a  few  laws 
without,  however,  believing  that  they  would  possess  much 
authority.  Provision  was  made  for  the  appointment  of  a 
court  of  arbitrators  to  hear  and  decide  disputes,  and  to  try 
offenders  against  the  peace  and  good  order  of  the  company. 

The  fiercest  thunderstorm  that  we  had  yet  experi- 
enced raged  throughout  that  night,  and  had  we  not 
been  protected  by  the  bluff  on  one  side,  and  the  timber 
on  the  other,  our  tents  would  have  been  carried  away 
by  the  gale. 

The  Big  Blue  had  become  so  turbulent  that  work 
on  the  prospective  craft  was  postponed,  and  our  peo- 
ple proceeded  to  make  the  most  of  the  unexpected 
holiday.  Messrs.  Grayson  and  Branham  found  a  bee 
tree,  and  brought  several  buckets  of  delicious  honey 
into  camp.     Mr.  Bryant  gathered  a  quantity  of  wild 

[17] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

peas,  and  distributed  them  among  the  friends  who 
had  spices  to  turn  them  into  sweet  pickles. 

The  evening  was  devoted  to  friendly  intercourse, 
and  the  camp  was  merry  with  song  and  melodies  dear 
to  loved  ones  around  the  old  hearthstones. 

Meanwhile,  Captain  Russell  had  drawn  a  plan  of  the 
craft  that  should  be  built,  and  had  marked  the  cotton- 
wood  trees  on  the  river  bank,  half  a  mile  above  camp, 
that  would  furnish  the  necessary  materials. 

Bright  and  early  the  following  morning,  volunteer 
boat-builders  went  to  work  with  a  will,  and  by  the 
close  of  day  had  felled  two  trees  about  three  and  a  half 
feet  in  diameter,  had  hollowed  out  the  trunks,  and 
made  of  them  a  pair  of  canoes  twenty-five  feet  in 
length.  In  addition  to  this,  they  had  also  prepared 
timbers  for  the  frames  to  hold  them  parallel,  and  in- 
sure the  wagon  whqj^ls  a  steady  place  while  being  fer- 
ried across  the  river. 

The  workers  were  well  satisfied  with  their  accom- 
plishment. There  was,  however,  sorrow  instead  of 
rejoicing  in  camp,  for  Mrs.  Reed's  aged  mother,  who 
had  been  failing  for  some  days,  died  that  night.  At 
two  o'clock  the  next  afternoon,  she  was  buried  at  the 
foot  of  a  monarch  oak,  in  a  neat  cottonwood .  coffin, 
made  by  men  of  the  party,  and  her  grave  wa^  marked 
by  a  headstone. 

The  craft  being  finished  on  the  morning  of  the 
thirtieth  of  May,  was  christened  Bhie  Rover,  and 
launched  amid  cheers  of  the  company.    Though  not  a 


[18] 


GOVERNOR  L.  W.  BOGGS 


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CROSSING  THE  RIVER 

thing  of  beauty,  she  was  destined  to  fulfil  the  expecta- 
tions of  our  worthy  Captain.  One  set  of  guide-ropes 
held  her  in  place  at  the  point  of  embarkation,  while 
swimmers  on  horseback  carried  another  set  of  ropes 
across  the  river  and  quickly  made  them  fast.  Only 
one  wagon  at  a  time  could  cross,  and  great  difficulty 
was  experienced  in  getting  the  vehicles  on  and  off  the 
boat.  Those  working  near  the  bank  stood  in  water  up 
to  their  armpits,  and  frequently  were  in  grave  peril. 
By  the  time  the  ninth  wagon  was  safely  landed,  dark- 
ness fell. 

The  only  unforeseen  delay  that  had  occurred  was 
occasioned  by  an  awkward  slip  of  the  third  wagon 
while  being  landed.  The  Blue  Rover  groaned  under 
the  shock,  leaned  to  one  side  and  swamped  one  of 
the  canoes.  However,  the  damage  was  slight  and 
easily  repaired.  The  next  day  was  Sunday;  but  the 
work  had  to  go  on,  and  the  Rev.  Mr.  Cornwall  was  as 
ready  for  it  as  the  rest  of  the  toilers. 

Much  anxiety  was  experienced  when  the  cattle  were 
forced  into  the  water,  and  they  had  a  desperate  strug- 
gle in  crossing  the  current ;  but  they  finally  reached  the 
opposite  bank  without  accident.  Each  family  em- 
barked in  its  own  wagon,  and  the  last  was  ferried  over 
in  the  rain  at  nine  o'clock  that  night.  The  ropes  were 
then  detached  from  the  Blue  Rover y  and  she  drifted 
away  in  the  darkness. 

Captain  Russell  had  despatched  matters  vigorously 
and  tactfully,  and  when  the  labors  of  that  day  were 


n9] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

completed,  still  had  a  word  of  cheer  for  the  shivering, 
hungry  travellers,  whom  he  led  into  camp  one  mile 
west  of  the  memorable  Big  Blue.  Despite  stiif  joints 
and  severe  colds,  all  were  anxious  to  resume  travel  at 
the  usual  hour  next  day,  June  the  first. 


4 


]20] 


CHAPTER  III 

IN     THE     HAUNTS     OF     THE     PAWNEES LETTERS     OF     MRS. 

GEORGE   DONNER^-HALT   AT  FORT   BERNARD SIOUX  IN- 
DIANS  AT   FORT   LARAMIE. 

WE  were  now  near  the  haunts  of  the  Pawnee  In- 
dians, reported  to  be  ^*  vicious  savages  and 
daring  thieves.''  Before  us  also  stretched  the  sum- 
mer range  of  the  antelope,  deer,  elk,  and  buffalo.  The 
effort  to  keep  out  of  the  way  of  the  Pawnees,  and  the 
desire  to  catch  sight  of  the  big  game,  urged  us  on  at 
a  good  rate  of  speed,  but  not  fast  enough  to  keep  our 
belligerents  on  good  behavior.  Before  night  they  had 
not  only  renewed  their  former  troubles,  but  come  to 
blows,  and  insulted  our  Captain,  who  had  tried  to  sep- 
arate them.  How  the  company  was  relieved  of  them 
is  thus  told  in  Mr.  Bryant's  Journal: 

June  2,  1846,  the  two  individuals  at  variance  about  their 
oxen  and  wagon  were  emigrants  to  Oregon,  and  some 
eighteen  or  twenty  wagons  now  travelling  with  us  were  bound 
to  the  same  place. 

It  was  proposed  in  order  to  relieve  ourselves  from  con- 
sequences of  dispute  in  which  we  had  no  interest,  that  all 
Oregon  emigrants  should,  in  respectful  manner  and  friendly 
spirit,  be  requested  to  separate  themselves  from  the  Califor- 
nia, and  start  on  in  advance  of  us.  The  proposition  was 
unanimously  carried;  and  the  spirit  in  which  it  was  made 
prevented  any  bad  feeling  which  otherwise  might  have 
resulted  from  it.  The  Oregon  emigrants  immediately  drew 
their  wagons  from  the  corrals  and  proceeded  on  their  way. 

[21] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PAETY 

The  Oregon  company  was  never  so  far  in  advance 
that  we  could  not  hear  from  it,  and  on  various  occa- 
sions, some  of  its  members  sent  to  us  for  medicines 
and  other  necessaries. 

Our  fear  of  the  Pawnees  diminished  as  we  pro- 
ceeded, and  met  in  their  haunts  only  friendly  Indians 
returning  from  the  hunt,  with  ponies  heavily  laden 
with  packs  of  jerked  meats  and  dried  buffalo  tongues. 
At  least  one  brave  in  each  party  could  make  himself 
understood  by  word  or  sign.  Many  could  pronounce 
the  one  word  **  hogmeat,'*  and  would  show  what  they 
had  to  exchange  for  the  coveted  luxury.  Others  also 
begged  for  ^^  tobac,''  and  sugar,  and  generally  got  a 
little. 

A  surprising  number  of  trappers  and  traders,  re- 
turning to  the  United  States  with  their  stocks  of  pel- 
try, camped  near  ugj.from  time  to  time.  TJiey  were 
glad  to  exchange  information,  and  kept  us  posted  in 
regard  to  the  condition  of  the  migrants,  and  the  num- 
ber of  wagons  on  the  road  in  advance.  These  rough- 
looking  fellows  courteously  offered  to  carry  the 
company 's  mail  to  the  nearest  post-office.  Mr.  Bryant 
and  my  mother  availed  themselves  of  the  kindness,  and 
sent  letters  to  the  respective  journals  of  which  they 
were  correspondents. 

Another  means  of  keeping  in  touch  with  travelling 
parties  in  advance  was  the  accounts  that  were  fre- 
quently found  written  on  the  bleaching  skulls  of  ani- 
mals, or  on  trunks  of  trees  from  which  the  bark  had 
been  stripped,  or  yet  again,  on  pieces  of  paper  stuck 

[221 


LETTERS  BY  MRS.  DONNER 

in  the  clefts  of  sticks  driven  into  the  ground  close  to 
the  trail.  Thus  each  company  left  greetings  and 
words  of  cheer  to  those  who  were  following.  Lost 
cattle  were  also  advertised  by  that  means,  and  many 
strays  or  convalescents  were  found  and  driven  for- 
ward to  their  owners. 

Early  June  afforded  rarest  sport  to  lovers  of  tlie 
chase,  and  our  company  was  kept  bountifully  supplied 
with  choicest  cuts  of  antelope,  deer,  and  elk  meat,  also 
juicy  buffalo  steak.  By  the  middle  of  the  month,  how- 
ever, our  surroundings  were  less  favorable.  We  en- 
tered a  region  of  oppressive  heat.  Clouds  of  dust 
enveloped  the  train.  Wood  became  scarce,  and  water 
had  to  be  stored  in  casks  and  carried  between  supply 
points.  We  passed  many  dead  oxen,  also  a  number  of 
poor  cripples  that  had  been  abandoned  by  their  un- 
feeling owners.  Our  people,  heeding  these  warnings, 
gave  our  cattle  extra  care,  and  lost  but  few. 

Through  the  kindness  of  the  Hon.  Allen  Francis, 
U.  S.  Consul  at  Victoria,  British  Columbia,  for  a  long 
term  of  years,  and  in  his  earlier  career  editor  of  The 
Springfield  Journal,  I  have  in  my  possession  two  let- 
ters written  by  my  mother  for  this  paper.  They  give 
a  glimpse  of  the  party  en  route.  Tlie  interval  of  time 
which  elapsed  between  the  date  of  writing  and  that 
of  publication  indicates  how  mucli  faster  our  trapper 
letter-carriers  must  have  travelled  on  horseback  than 
we  had  by  ox  train. 

The  following  was  published  on  the  twenty-third  of 
July: 

[23] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  BONNER  PARTY 

Near  the  Junction  of  the  North 
AND  South  Platte,  Jidw  16,  1846 
My  old  Friend: 

We  are  now  on  the  Platte,  two  hundred  miles  from  Fort 
Laramie.  Our  journey  so  far  has  been  pleasant,  the  roads 
have  been  good,  and  food  plentiful.  The  water  for  part 
of  the  way  has  been  indifferent,  but  at  no  time  have  our  cattle 
suffered  for  it.  Wood  is  now  very  scarce,  but ' '  buffalo  chips  ' ' 
are  excellent;  they  kindle  quickly  and  retain  heat  surpris- 
ingly. We  had  this  morning  buffalo  steaks  broiled  upon 
them  that  had  the  same  flavor  they  would  have  had  upon 
hickory  coals. 

We  feel  no  fear  of  Indians,  our  cattle  graze  quietly  around 
our  encampment  unmolested. 

Two  or  three  men  will  go  hunting  twenty  miles  from  camp ; 
and  last  night  two  of  our  men  lay  out  in  the  wilderness 
rather  than  ride  their  horses  after  a  hard  chase. 

Indeed,  if  I  do  not  experience  something  far  worse  than  I 
have  yet  done,  I  shall  say  the  trouble  is  all  in  getting  started. 
Our  wagons  have  not  needed  much  repair,  and  I  can  not  yet 
tell  in  what  respects  they  could  be  improved.  Certain  it  is, 
they  can  not  be  too  strong.  Our  preparations  for  the  jour- 
ney might  have  been  m  some  respects  bettered. 

Bread  has  been  the  principal  article  of  food  in  our  camp. 
We  laid  in  150  pounds  of  flour  and  75  pounds  of  meat  for 
each  individual,  and  I  fear  bread  will  be  scarce.  Meat  is 
abundant.  Rice  and  beans  are  good  articles  on  the  road; 
C'ornmeal,  too,  is  acceptable.  Linsey  dresses  are  the  most 
suitable  for  children.  Indeed,  if  I  had  one,  it  would  be 
acceptable.  There  is  so  cool  a  breeze  at  all  times  on  the  plains 
that  the  sun  does  not  feel  so  hot  as  one  would  suppose. 

We  are  now  four  hundred  and  fifty  miles  from  Independ- 
ence. Our  route  at  first  was  rough,  and  through  a  timbered 
country,  which  appeared  to  be  fertile.  After  striking  the 
prairie,  we  found  a  first-rate  road,  and  the  only  difficulty  we 
have  had,  has  been  in  crossing  the  creeks.  In  that,  however, 
there  has  been  no  danger. 

I  never  could  have  believed  we  could  have  travelled  so  far 
with  so  little  difficulty.  The  prairie  between  the  Blue  and 
the  Platte  rivers  is  beautiful  beyond  description.  Never  have 
I  seen  so  varied  a  country,  so  suitable  for  cultivation.    Every- 

r24i 


LETTERS  TO  SPRINGFIELD  JOURNAL 

thing  was  new  and  pleasing ;  the  Indians  frequently  come  to 
see  us,  and  the  chiefs  of  a  tribe  breakfasted  at  our  tent  this 
morning.  All  are  so  friendly  that  I  can  not  help  feeling 
sympathy  and  friendship  for  them.  But  on  one  sheet  what 
can  I  say? 

Since  we  have  been  on  the  Platte,  we  have  had  the  river 
on  one  side  and  the  ever  varying  mounds  on  the  other,  and 
have  travelled  through  the  bottom  lands  from  one  to  two 
miles  wide,  with  little  or  no  timber.  The  soil  is  sandy,  and 
last  year,  on  account  of  the  dry  season,  the  emigrants  found 
grass  here  scarce.  Our  cattle  are  in  good  order,  and  when 
proper  care  has  been  taken,  none  have  been  lost.  Our  milch 
<;ows  have  been  of  great  service,  indeed.  They  have  been  of 
more  advantage  than  our  meat.  We  have  plenty  of  butter 
and  milk. 

We  are  commanded  by  Captain  Russell,  an  amiable  man. 
George  Donner  is  himself  yet.  He  crows  in  the  morning  and 
shouts  out,  ''Chain  up,  boys!  chain  up!"  with  as  much 
authority  as  though  he  was  "  something  in  particular." 
John  Denton  is  still  with  us.  We  find  him  useful  in  the 
camp.  Hiram  Miller  and  Noah  James  are  in  good  health 
and  doing  well.  We  have  of  the  best  people  in  our  company, 
and  some,  too,  that  are  not  so  good. 

Buffaloes  show  themselves  frequently. 

We  have  found  the  wild  tulip,  the  primrose,  the  lupine, 
the  eardrop,  the  larkspur,  and  creeping  hollyhock,  and  a 
beautiful  flower  resembling  the  blossom  of  the  beech  tree, 
but  in  bunches  as  large  as  a  small  sugar  loaf,  and  of  every 
variety  of  shade,  to  red  and  green. 

I  botanize  and  read  some,  but  cook  ' '  heaps  '  *  more.  There 
are  four  hundred  and  twenty  wagons,  as  far  as  we  have 
heard,  on  the  road  between  here  and  Oregon  and  California. 

Give  our  love  to  all  inquiring  friends.     God  bless  them. 
Yours  truly, 

^   Mrs.  George  Donner. 

The  following  extract  is  part  of  a  letter  which  ap- 
peared in  The  Springfield  Journal  of  July  30,  1846  * : 

*  When  Mr.  Francis  was  appointed  U.  S.  Consul  by  President 
Lincoln,  he  stored  his  files  of  The  Spring-field,  Illinois,  Journal,  and  upon 
his  return  from  Victoria,  B.  C,  found  the  files  almost  destroyed  by  attic 

[251 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

South  Fork  of  the  Nebraska, 
*  Ten  i\IiLEs  PROM  the  Crossing, 

Tuesday,  June  16,  1846 
Dear  Friend: 

To-day,  at  nooning,  there  passed,  going  to  the  States,  seven 
men  from  Oregon,  who  went  out  last  year.  One  of  them  was 
well  acquainted  with  Messrs.  Ide  and  Cadden  Keyes,  the 
latter  of  whom,  he  says,  went  to  California.  They  met 
the  advance  Oregon  caravan  about  150  miles  west  of  Fort 
Laramie,  and  counted  in  all,  for  Oregon  and  California 
(excepting  ours),  478  wagons.  There  are  in  our  company 
over  40  wagons,  making  518  in  all;  and  there  are  said  to  be 
yet  20  behind.  To-morrow  we  cross  the  river,  and,  by  reck- 
oning, will  be  over  200  miles  from  Fort  Laramie,  where  we 
intend  to  stop  and  repair  our  wagon  wheels.  They  are  nearly 
all  loose,  and  I  am  afraid  we  will  have  to  stop  sooner,  if  there 
can  be  found  wood  suitable  to  heat  the  tires.  There  is  no 
wood  here,  and  our  women  and  children  are  out  now  gath- 
ering ' '  buffalo  chips  ' '  to  burn,  in  order  to  do  the  cooking. 
These  chips  burn  well. 

Mrs.  George  Donner. 

On  the  eighteenth  of  June,  Captain  Russell,  who 
had  been  stricken  witli  bilious  fever,  resigned  his  office 
of  leader.  My  father  and  other  subordinate  officers 
also  resigned  their  positions.  The  assembly  tendered 
the  retiring  officials  a  vote  of  thanks  for  faithful  serv- 
ice ;  and  by  common  consent,  ex-Governor  Boggs  moved 
at  the  head  of  the  train  and  gave  it  his  name. 

We  had  expected  to  push  on  to  Fort  Laramie  with- 
out stopping  elsewhere,  but  when  we  reached  Fort 
Bernard,  a  small  fur-trading  post  ten  miles  east  of 
Fort  Laramie,  we  learned  that  the  Sioux  Indians  were 
gathering  on  Laramie  Plain,  preparing  for  war  with 
the  Crows,  and  their  allies,  the  Snakes;  also  that  the 

rodents,  and  my  mother 's  earlier  contributions  in  verse  and  prose,  as  well 
as  her  letters  while  en  route  to  California    were  practically  illegible. 

[  26  1 


ARRIVAL  AT  FORT  LARAMIE 

emigrants  already  encamped  there  found  pasturage 
very  short.  Consequently,  our  train  halted  at  this 
more  advantageous  point,  where  our  cattle  could  be 
sent  in  charge  of  herders  to  browse  along  the  Platte 
River,  and  where  the  necessary  materials  could  be  ob- 
tained to  repair  the  great  damage  which  had  been 
done  to  our  wagon  wheels  by  the  intense  heat  of  the 
preceding  weeks. 

Meanwhile,  Messrs.  Russell  and  Bryant,  with  six 
young  bachelor  friends,  found  an  opportunity  to  fin- 
ish their  journey  with  pack  animals.  They  exchanged 
with  traders  from  New  Mexico  their  wagons  and  teams 
for  the  requisite  number  of  saddle-horses,  mules,  pack- 
saddles,  and  other  equipment,  which  would  enable 
them  to  reach  California  a  month  earlier  than  by 
wagon  route. 

Both  parties  broke  camp  at  the  same  hour  on  the 
last  day  of  June,  they  taking  the  bridle  trail  to  the 
right,  and  we  turning  to  the  left  across  the  ridge  to 
Fort  Laramie. 

Not  an  emigrant  tent  was  to  be  seen  as  we  ap- 
proached the  fort,  but  bands  of  horses  were  grazing 
on  the  plain,  and  Indians  smeared  with  war-paint, 
and  armed  with  hunting  knives,  tomahawks,  bows  and 
arrows,  were  moving  about  excitedly.  They  did  not 
appear  to  notice  us  as  we  drove  to  the  entrance  of  the 
strongly  fortified  walls,  surrounding  the  buildings  of 
the  American  Fur  Company,  yet  by  the  time  we  were 
ready  to  depart,  large  crowds  were  standing  close  to 
our  wagons  to  receive  the  presents  which  our  people 

[27] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

had  to  distribute  among  them.  Many  of  the  squaws 
and  papooses  were  gorgeous  in  white  doe  skin  suits, 
gaudily  trimmed  with  beads,  and  bows  of  bright  rib- 
bons. They  formed  a  striking  contrast  to  us,  travel- 
stained  wayfarers  in  linsey  dresses  and  sun-bonnets. 
Most  of  the  white  men  connected  with  the  fort  had 
taken  Indian  wives  and  many  little  children  played 
around  their  doors. 

Mr.  Bourdeau,  the  general  manager  at  the  fort,  ex- 
plained to  us  that  the  emigrants  who  had  remained 
there  up  to  the  previous  Saturday  were  on  that  day 
advised  by  several  of  the  Sioux  chiefs,  for  whom  he 
acted  as  spokesman,  ^^  to  resume  their  journey  before 
the  coming  Tuesday,  and  to  unite  in  strong  companies, 
because  their  people  were  in  large  force  in  the  hills, 
preparing  to  go  out  on  the  war-path  in  the  country 
through  which  the  travellers  had  yet  to  pass;  that 
they  were  not  pleasfe  with  the  whites;  that  many  of 
their  warriors  were  cross  and  sulky  in  anticipation  of 
the  work  before  them;  and  that  any  white  persons 
found  outside  the  fort  upon  their  arrival  might  be 
subject  to  robbery  and  other  bad  treatment."  This 
advice  of  the  chiefs  had  awakened  such  fear  in  the 
travellers  that  every  camp-fire  was  deserted  before 
sunrise  the  ensuing  morning.  We,  in  turn,  were  filled 
with  apprehension,  and  immediately  hurried  onward 
in  the  ruts  made  by  the  fleeing  wagons  of  the  previous 
day. 

Before  we  got  out  of  the  country  of  the  Sioux,  w^e 
were  overtaken  by  about  three  hundred  mounted  war- 

[28] 


SIOUX  WAREIORS 

riors.  They  came  in  stately  procession,  two  abreast; 
rode  on  in  advance  of  our  train;  halted,  and  opened 
ranks;  and  as  our  wagons  passed  between  their  lines, 
the  warriors  took  from  between  their  teeth,  green 
twigs,  and  tossed  them  toward  us  in  pledge  of  friend- 
ship, then  turned  and  as  quietly  and  solemnly  as  they 
had  come  to  us,  rode  toward  the  hills.  A  great  sigh 
of  relief  expressed  the  company's  satisfaction  at  be- 
ing again  alone;  still  no  one  could  feel  sure  that  we 
should  escape  a  night  attack.  Our  trail  led  up  into 
the  hills,  and  we  travelled  late  into  the  night,  and  were 
again  on  the  way  by  morning  starlight.  We  heard 
wolf  yelps  and  owl  hoots  in  the  distance,  but  were 
not  approached  by  prowlers  of  any  kind. 


[29] 


CHAPTER  IV 

FOURTH   OF   JULY   IN   AN   EMIGRANT  PARTY OPEN  LETTER 

OF      LANSFORD      HASTINGS GEORGE      DONNER     ELECTED 

CAPTAIN    OF   PARTY   BOUND  FOR   CALIFORNIA ENTERING 

THE   GREAT  DESERT INSUFFICIENT   SUPPLY   OF   FOOD 

VOLUNTEERS    COMMISSIONED   BY'    MY    FATHER    TO    HASTEN 

TO  Sutter's  fort  for  relief. 

ON  the  second  of  July  we  met  Mr.  Bryant  return- 
ing to  prevail  on  some  man  of  our  company  to 
take  the  place  of  Mr.  Kendall  of  the  bridle  party,  who 
had  heard  such  evil  reports  of  California  from  return- 
ing trappers  that  his  courage  had  failed,  and  he  had 
deserted  his  companions  and  joined  the  Oregon  com- 
pany. Hiram  Miller,  who  had  driven  one  of  my 
father's  wagons  from  Springfield,  took  advantage  of 
this  opportunity  for  a  faster  method  of  travel  and 
left  with  Mr.  Bryant. 

The  following  evening  we  encamped  near  the  re- 
enforced  bridle  party,  and  on  the  morning  of  the 
Fourth  Messrs.  Russell  and  Bryant  came  over  to  help 
us  to  celebrate  our  national  holiday.  A  salute  was 
fired  at  sunrise,  and  later  a  platform  of  boxes  was  ar- 
ranged in  a  grove  close  by,  and  by  half-past  nine 
o'clock  every  one  in  camp  was  in  holiday  attire,  and 
ready  to  join  the  procession  which  marched  around 

[301 


NEW  EOUTE  TO  CALIFORNIA 

tlie  camp  and  to  the  adjacent  grove.  There,  patriotic 
songs  were  sung,  the  Declaration  of  Independence  was 
read,  and  Colonel  Russell  delivered  an  address.  After 
enjoying  a  feast  prepared  by  the  women  of  the  com- 
pany, and  drinking  to  the  health  and  happiness  of 
friends  and  kindred  in  reverent  silence,  with  faces  to- 
ward the  east,  our  guests  bade  us  a  final  good-bye  and 
godspeed. 

We  had  on  many  occasions  entertained  eastward- 
bound  rovers  whose  varied  experiences  on  the  Pacific 
coast  made  them  interesting  talkers.  Those  who  fa- 
vored California  extolled  its  excellence,  and  had  scant 
praise  for  Oregon.  Those  who  loved  Oregon  de- 
scribed its  marvellous  advantages  over  California,  and 
urged  home-seekers  to  select  it  as  the  wiser  choice; 
consequently,  as  we  neared  the  parting  of  the  ways, 
some  of  our  people  were  in  perplexity  which  to  choose. 

On  the  nineteenth  of  July  we  reached  the  Little 
Sandy  River  and  there  found  four  distinct  companies 
encamped  in  neighborly  groups,  among  them  our 
friends,  the  Thorntons  and  Rev.  Mr.  Cornwall.  Most 
of  them  were  listed  for  Oregon,  and  were  resting  their 
cattle  preparatory  to  entering  upon  the  long,  dry  drive 
of  forty  miles,  known  as  *'  Greenwood's  Cut-off.'' 

There  my  father  and  others  deliberated  over  a  new 
route  to  California.  ^ 

They  were  led  to  do  so  by  ^ '  An  Open  Letter, ' '  which 
had  been  delivered  to  our  company  on  the  seven- 
teenth by  special  messenger  on  horseback.  The  letter 
was   written   by   Lansford   W.   Hastings,   author   of 

r  31 1 


THE  EXPEDITION  01^  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

**  Travel  Among  the  Rocky  Mountains,  Through  Or- 
egon and  California.''  It  was  dated  and  addressed, 
'*  At  the  Headwaters  of  the  Sweetwater:  To  ail  Cal- 
ifornia Emigrants  now  on  the  Road,''  and  intimated 
that,  on  account  of  war  between  Mexico  and  the  United 
States,  the  Government  of  California  would  probably 
oppose  the  entrance  of  American  emigrants  to  its  ter- 
ritory; and  urged  those  on  the  way  to  California  to 
concentrate  their  numbers  and  strength,  and  to  take 
the  new  and  better  route  which  he  had  explored  from 
Fort  Bridger,  by  way  of  the  south  end  of  Salt  Lake. 
It  emphasized  the  statement  that  this  new  route  was 
nearly  two  hundred  miles  shorter  than  the  old  one  by 
way  of  Fort  Hall  and  the  headwaters  of  Ogden's 
River,  and  that  he  himself  would  remain  at  Fort 
Bridger  to  give  further  information,  and  to  conduct 
the  emigrants  through  to  the  settlement. 

The  proposition  seemed  so  feasible,  that  after  cool 
deliberation  and  discussion,  a  party  was  formed  to 
take  the  new  route. 

My  father  was  elected  captain  of  this  company,  and 
from  that  time  on  it  was  known  as  the  *^  Donner 
Party."  It  included  our  original  Sangamon  County 
folks  (except  Mrs.  Keyes  and  Hiram  Miller),  and  the 
following  additional  members:  Patrick  Breen,  wife, 
and  seven  children;  Lewis  Keseberg,  wife,  and  two 
children;  Mrs.  Lavina  Murphy  (a  widow)  and  five 
children;  "William  Eddy,  wife,  and  two  children; 
William  Pike,  wife,  and  two  children ;  William  Foster, 
wife,  and  child;  William  McCutchen,  wife,  and  child; 

[32] 


DIVISION  OF  THE  COMPANIES 

Mr.    Wolfinger   and   wife;    Patrick   Doland,    Charles 

Stanton,  Samuel  Shoemaker, Hardcoop, 

Spitzer,  Joseph  Eeinhart,  James  Smith,  Walter  Her- 
ron,  and  Luke  Halloran. 

While  we  were  preparing  to  break  camp,  the  last 
named  had  begged  my  father  for  a  place  in  our  wagon. 
He  was  a  stranger  to  our  family,  afflicted  with  con- 
sumption, too  ill  to  make  the  journey  on  horseback, 
and  the  family  with  whom  he  had  travelled  thus  far 
could  no  longer  accommodate  him.  His  forlorn  condi- 
tion appealed  to  my  parents  and  they  granted  his 
request. 

All  the  companies  broke  camp  and  left  the  Little 
Sandy  on  the  twentieth  of  July.  The  Oregon  division 
with  a  section  for  California  took  the  right-hand  trail 
for  Fort  Hall;  and  the  Donner  Party,  the  left-hand 
trail  to  Fort  Bridger. 

After  parting  from  us,  Mr.  Thornton  made  the  fol- 
lowing note  in  his  journal : 

July  20,  1846.  The  Californians  were  much  elated  and 
in  fine  spirits,  with  the  prospect  of  better  and  nearer  road 
to  the  country  of  their  destination.  Mrs.  George  Donner, 
however,  was  an  exception.  She  was  gloomy,  sad,  and  dis- 
pirited in  view  of  the  fact  that  her  husband  and  others 
could  think  of  leaving  the  old  road,  and  confide  in  the  state- 
ment of  a  man  of  whom  they  knew  nothing,  but  was  prob- 
ably some  selfish  adventurer. 

Five   days  later  the   Donnj^r  Party  reached  Fort 

Bridger,  and  were  informed  by  Hastings's  agent  that 

he  had  gone  forward  as  pilot  to  a  large  emigrant  train, 

but  had  left  instructions  that  all  later  arrivals  should 

follow  his  trail.     Further,  that  they  would  find  **  an 

[33] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

abundant  supply  of  wood,  water,  and  pasturage  along 
the  whole  line  of  road,  except  one  dry  drive  of  thirty 
miles,  or  forty  at  most ;  that  they  would  have  no  diffi- 
cult canons  to  pass;  and  that  the  road  was  generally 
smooth,  level,  and  hard.'* 

At  Fort  Bridger,  my  father  took  as  driver  for  one 
of  his  wagons,  John  Baptiste  Trubode,  a  sturdy  young 
mountaineer,  the  offspring  of  a  French  father  —  a 
trapper  —  and  a  Mexican  mother.  John  claimed  to 
have  a  knowledge  of  the  languages  and  customs  of  va- 
rious Indian  tribes  through  whose  country  we  should 
have  to  pass,  and  urged  that  this  knowledge  might 
prove  helpful  to  the  company. 

The  trail  from  the  fort  was  all  that  could  be  de- 
sired, and  on  the  third  of  August,  we  reached  the 
crossing  of  "Webber  River,  where  it  breaks  through  the 
mountains  into  the  jpanon.  There  we  found  a  letter 
from  Hastings  stuck  in  the  cleft  of  a  projecting  stick 
near  the  roadside.  It  advised  all  parties  to  encamp 
and  await  his  return  for  the  purpose  of  showing  them 
a  better  way  than  through  the  canon  of  Webber  River, 
stating  that  he  had  found  the  road  over  which  he  was 
then  piloting  a  train  very  bad,  and  feared  other  parties 
might  not  be  able  to  get  their  wagons  through  the 
canon  leading  to  the  valley  of  the  Great  Salt  Lake. 

He  referred,  however,  to  another  route  which  he  de- 
clared to  be  much  better,  as  it  avoided  the  canon  al- 
together. To  prevent  unnecessary  delays,  Messrs. 
Reed,  Pike,  and  Stanton  volunteered  to  ride  over  the 
new  route,  and,  if  advisable,  bring  Hastings  back  to 

[34] 


JOHN    BAPTISTE    TRUBODE 


OPENING  A  ROADWAY 

conduct  us  to  the  open  valley.  After  eight  days  Mr. 
Reed  returned  alone,  and  reported  that  he  and  his 
companions  overtook  Hastings  with  his  train  near  the 
south  end  of  Salt  Lake ;  that  Hastings  refused  to  leave 
his  train,  but  was  finally  induced  to  go  with  them  to 
the  summit  of  a  ridge  of  the  Wahsatch  Mountains  and 
from  there  point  out  as  best  he  could,  the  directions 
to  be  followed. 

"While  exploring  on  the  way  back,  Mr.  Reed  had  be- 
come separated  from  Messrs.  Pike  and  Stanton  and 
now  feared  they  might  be  lost.  He  himself  had  lo- 
cated landmarks  and  blazed  trees  and  felt  confident 
that,  by  making  occasional  short  clearings,  we  could 
get  our  wagons  over  the  new  route  as  outlined  by 
Hastings.  Searchers  were  sent  ahead  to  look  up  the 
missing  men,  and  we  immediately  broke  camp  and  re- 
sumed travel. 

The  following  evening  we  were  stopped  by  a  thicket 
of  quaking  ash,  through  which  it  required  a  full  day's 
hard  work  to  open  a  passageway.  Thence  our  course 
lay  through  a  wilderness  of  rugged  peaks  and  rock- 
bound  canons  until  a  heavily  obstructed  gulch  con- 
fronted us.  Believing  that  it  would  lead  out  to  the 
Utah  River  Valley,  our  men  again  took  their  tools  and 
became  roadmakers.  They  had  toiled  six  days,  when 
W.  F.  Graves,  wife,  and  eight  children;  J.  Fosdick, 
wife,  and  child,  and  John  Snyder,  with  their  teams  and 
cattle,  overtook  and  joined  our  train.  With  the  as- 
sistance of  these  three  fresh  men,  the  road,  eight  miles 
in  length,  was  completed  two  days  later.     It  carried 

[851 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

us  out  into  a  pretty  mountain  dell,  not  the  opening  we 
had  expected. 

Fortunately,  we  here  met  the  searchers  returning 
with  Messrs.  Pike  and  Stanton.  The  latter  informed 
us  that  we  must  turn  back  over  our  newly  made  road 
and  cross  a  farther  range  of  peaks  in  order  to  strike 
the  outlet  to  the  valley.  Sudden  fear  of  being  lost  in 
the  trackless  mountains  almost  precipitated  a  panic, 
and  it  was  with  difficulty  that  my  father  and  other 
cool-headed  persons  kept  excited  families  from  scat- 
tering rashly  into  greater  dangers. 

We  retraced  our  way,  and  after  five  days  of  alter- 
nate travelling  and  road-making,  ascended  a  mountain 
so  steep  that  six  and  eight  yoke  of  oxen  were  required 
to  draw  each  vehicle  up  the  grade,  and  most  careful 
handling  of  the  teams  was  necessary  to  keep  the  wag- 
ons from  toppling  over  as  the  straining  cattle  zigzaged 
to  the  summit.  FortunaMy,  the  slope  on  the  opposite 
side  was  gradual  and  the  last  wagon  descended  to 
camp  before  darkness  obscured  the  way. 

The  following  morning,  we  crossed  the  river  which 
flows  from  Utah  Lake  to  Great  Salt  Lake  and  found 
the  trail  of  the  Hastings  party.  We  had  been  thirty 
days  in  reaching  that  point,  which  we  had  hoped  to 
make  in  ten  or  twelve. 

The  tedious  delays  and  high  altitude  wrought  dis- 
tressing changes  in  Mr.  Halloran's  condition,  and  my 
father  and  mother  watched  over  him  with  increasing- 
solicitude.  But  despite  my  mother's  unwearying  min- 
istrations, death  came  on  the  fourth  of  September. 

[36] 


SUPPLIES  FROM  SUTTER'S  FORT 

Suitable  timber  for  a  coffin  could  not  be  obtained, 
so  his  body  was  wrapped  in  sheets  and  carefully  en- 
closed in  a  buffalo  robe,  then  reverently  laid  to  rest 
in  a  grave  on  the  shore  of  Great  Salt  Lake,  near  that 
of  a  stranger,  who  had  been  buried  bv  the  Hastings 
party  a  few  weeks  earlier. 

Mr.  Halloran  had  appreciated  the  tender  care  be- 
stowed upon  him  by  my  parents,  and  had  told 
members  of  our  company  that  in  the  event  of  his  death 
on  the  way,  his  trunk  and  its  contents,  and  his  horse 
and  its  equipments  should  belong  to  Captain  Donner. 
When  the  trunk  was  opened,  it  was  found  to  contain 
clothing,  keepsakes,  a  Masonic  emblem,  and  fifteen 
hundred  dollars  in  coin. 

A  new  inventory,  taken  about  this  time,  disclosed 
the  fact  that  the  company's  stock  of  supplies  was  in- 
sufficient to  carry  it  through  to  California.  A  call  was 
made  for  volunteers  who  should  hasten  on  horseback 
to  Sutter's  Fort,  procure  supplies  and,  returning,  meet 
the  train  en  route.  Mr.  Stanton,  who  was  without 
family,  and  Mr.  McCutchen,  whose  wife  and  child  were 
in  the  company,  heroically  responded.  They  were  fur- 
nished with  necessaries  for  their  personal  needs,  and 
with  letters  to  Captain  Sutter,  explaining  the  com- 
pany's situation,  and  petitioning  for  supplies  which 
would  enable  it  to  reach  the  settlement.  As  the 
two  men  rode  away,  many  anxious  eyes  watched  them 
pass  out  of  sight,  and  many  heartfelt  prayers  were 
offered  for  their  personal  safety,  and  the  success  of 
their  mission. 

[37] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNEE  PARTY 

In  addressing  this  letter  to  Captain  Sutter,  my 
father  followed  the  general  example  of  emigrants  to 
California  in  those  days,  for  Sutter,  great-hearted  and 
generous,  was  the  man  to  whom  all  turned  in  distress 
or  emergencies.  .  He  himself  had  emigrated  to  the 
United  States  at  an  early  age,  and  after  a  few  years 
spent  in  St.  Louis,  Missouri,  had  pushed  his  way  west- 
ward to  California. 

There  he  negotiated  with  the  Russian  Government 
for  its  holdings  on  the  Pacific  coast,  and  took  them 
over  when  Russia  evacuated  the  country.  He  then 
established  himself  on  the  vast  estates  so  acquired, 
which,  in  memory  of  his  parentage,  he  called  New  Hel- 
vetia. The  Mexican  Government,  however,  soon  as 
sunied  his  liabilities  to  the  Russian  Government,  and 
exercised  sovereignty  over  the  territory.  Sutter's  po- 
sition, nevertheless,  was  j)ractically  that  of  a  poten- 
tate. He  constructed  the  well-known  fort  near  the 
present  site  of  the  city  of  Sacramento,  as  protection 
against  Indian  depredations,  and  it  became  a  trading 
centre  and  rendezvous  for  incoming  emigrants. 


[38] 


CHAPTER  V 

BEWILDERING    GUIDE    BOARD SOUL-TRYING    STRUGGLES 

FIRST        SNOW •  REED-SNYDER       TRAGEDY^ HARDCOOP  's 

FATE. 

OUR  next  memorable  camp  was  in  a  fertile  valley 
where  we  found  twenty  natural  wells,  some 
very  deep  and  full  to  the  brim  of  pure,  cold  water. 
' '  They  varied  from  six  inches  to  several  feet  in  diam- 
eter, the  soil  around  the  edges  was  dry  and  hard,  and 
as  fast  as  water  was  dipped  out,  a  new  supply  rose  to 
the  surface. ''*  Grass  was  plentiful  and  wood  easily  ob- 
tained.  Our  people  made  much  of  a  brief  stay,  for 
though  the  weather  was  a  little  sharp,  the  surround- 
ings were  restful.  Then  came  a  long,  dreary  pull 
over  a  low  range  of  hills,  which  brought  us  to  another 
beautiful  valley  where  the  pasturage  was  abundant, 
and  more  wells  marked  the  site  of  good  camping 
grounds. 

Close  by  the  largest  well  stood  a  rueful  spectacle, 
—  a  bewildering  guide  board,  flecked  with  bits  of  white 
paper,  showing  that  the  notice  or  message  which  had 
recently  bebn  pasted  and  tacked  thereon  had  since 
been  stripped  off  in  irregular  bits. 

In  surprise  and  consternation,  the  emigrants  gazed 

^Thornton. 

[39] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

at  its  blank  face,  then  toward  the  dreary  waste  beyond. 
Presently,  my  mother  knelt  before  it  and  began 
searching  for  fragments  of  paper,  which  she  believed 
crows  had  wantonly  pecked  off  and  dropped  to  the 
ground. 

Spurred  by  her  zeal,  others  also  were  soon  on  their 
knees,  scratching  among  the  grasses  and  sifting  the 
loose  soil  through  their  fingers.  What  they  found,  they 
brought  to  her,  and  after  the  search  ended  she  took 
the  guide  board,  laid  it  across  her. lap,  and  thought- 
fully began  fitting  the  ragged  edges  of  paper  together 
and  matching  the  scraps  to  marks  on  the  board.  The 
tedious  process  was  watched  witli  spellbound  interest 
by  the  anxious  group  around  her. 

The  writing  was  that  of  Hastings,  and  her  patch- 
work brought  out  the  following  words: 

**  2  days  —  2  nights  —  hard  driving  —  cross  —  des- 
ert —  reach  water.  ^ ' 

This  would  be  a  heavy  strain  on  our  cattle,  and  to 
fit  them  for  the  ordeal  they  were  granted  thirty-six 
hours'  indulgence  near  the  bubbling  waters,  amid  good 
pasturage.  Meanwhile,  grass  was  cut  and  stored, 
water  casks  were  filled,  and  rations  were  prepared  for 
desert  use. 

We  left  camp  on  the  morning  of  September  9,  fol- 
lowing dimly  marked  wagon-tracks  courageously,  and 
entered  upon  the  **  dry  drive,"  which  Hastings  and 
his  agent  at  Fort  Bridger  had  represented  as  being 
thirty-five  miles,  or  forty  at  most.  After  two  days 
and  two  nights  of  continuous  travel,  over  a  waste  of 

[40] 


DECEIVED  BY  A  MIRAGE 

alkali  and  sand,  we  were  still  surrounded  as  far  as 
eye  could  see  by  a  region  of  fearful  desolation.  The 
supply  of  feed  for  our  cattle  was  gone,  the  water 
casks  were  empty,  and  a  pitiless  sun  was  turning  its 
burning  rays  upon  the  glaring  earth  over  which  we 
still  had  to  go. 

Mr.  Reed  now  rode  ahead  to  prospect  for  water, 
while  the  rest  followed  with  the  teams.  All  who  could 
walk  did  so,  mothers  carrying  their  babes  in  their 
arms,  and  fathers  with  weaklings  across  their  shoul- 
ders moved  slowly  as  they  urged  the  famishing  cattle 
forward.  Suddenly  an  outcry  of  joy  gave  hope  to 
those  whose  courage  waned.  A  lake  of  shimmering 
water  appeared  before  us  in  the  near  distance,  we 
could  see  the  wavy  grasses  and  a  caravan  of  people 
moving  toward  it. 

^'  It  may  be  Hastings !  "  was  the  eager  shout.  Alas, 
as  we  advanced,  the  scene  vanished !  A  cruel  mirage, 
in  its  mysterious  way,  had  outlined  the  lake  and  cast 
our  shadows  near  its  shore. 

Disappointment  intensified  our  burning  thirst,  and 
my  good  mother  gave  her  own  and  other  suffering- 
children  wee  lumps  of  sugar,  moistened  with  a  drop  of 
peppermint,  and  later  put  a  flattened  bullet  in  each 
child's  mouth  to  engage  its  attention  and  help  keep  the 
salivary  glands  in  action. 

Then  fallowed  soul-trying  hours.  Oxen,  footsore 
and  weary,  stumbled  under  their  yokes.  Women, 
heartsick  and  exhausted,  could  walk  no  farther.  As  a 
last  resort,  the  men  Inmo*  the  water  pails  on  their 

[41]      . 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

arms,  unhooked  the  oxen  from  the  wagons,  and  by 
persuasion  and  force,  drove  them  onward,  leaving  the 
women  and  children  to  await  their  return.  Messrs. 
Eddy  and  Graves  got  their  animals  to  water  on  the 
night  of  the  twelfth,  and  the  others  later.  As  soon 
as  the  poor  beasts  were  refreshed,  they  were  brought 
back  with  water  for  the  suffering,  and  also  that  they 
might  draw  the  wagons  on  to  camp.  My  father's 
wagons  were  the  last  taken  out.  They  reached  camp 
the  morning  of  the  fifteenth. 

Thirty-six  head  of  cattle  were  left  on  that  desert, 
some  dead,  some  lost.  Among  the  lost  were  all  Mr. 
Reed's  herd;  except  an  ox  and  a  cow.  His  poor  beasts 
had  become  frenzied  in  the  night,  as  they  were  being 
driven  toward  water,  and  with  the  strength  that  comes 
with  madness,  had  rushed  away  in  the  darkness. 
Meanwhile,  Mr.  Reed,  unconscious  of  his  misfortune, 
was  returning  to  his  family,  which  he  found  by  his 
wagon,  some  distance  in  the  rear.  At  dayliglit,  he, 
with  his  wife  and  children,  on  foot,  overtook  my  Uncle 
Jacob's  wagons  and  were  carried  forward  in  them 
until  their  own  were  brought  up. 

After  hurriedly  making  camp,  all  the  men  turned 
out  to  hunt  the  Reed  cattle.  In  every  direction  they 
searched,  but  found  no  clue.  Those  who  rode  onward, 
however,  discovered  that  we  had  reached  only  an  oasis 
in  the  desert,  and  that  six  miles  ahead  of  us  lay  an- 
other pitiless  barren  stretch. 

Anguish  and  dismay  now  filled  all  hearts.  Hus- 
bands bowed  their  heads,  appalled  at  the  situation  of 

.       [42] 


THE  FIRST  SNOW 

their  families.  Some  cursed  Hastings  for  the  false 
statements  in  his  open  letter  and  for  his  broken  pledge 
at  Fort  Bridger.  They  cursed  him  also  for  his  mis- 
representation of  the  distance  across  this  cruel  desert, 
traversing  which  had  wrought  such  suffering  and  loss. 
Mothers  in  tearless  agony  clasped  their  children  to 
their  bosoms,  with  the  old,  old  cry,  *^  Father,  Thy  will, 
not  mine,  be  done.'' 

It  was  plain  that,  try  as  we  might,  we  could  not  get 
back  to  Fort  Bridger.  We  must  proceed  regardless  of 
the  fearful  outlook. 

After  earnest  consultation,  it  was  deemed  best  to 
dig  a  trench  and  cache  all  Mr.  Reed's  effects,  except 
such  as  could  be  packed  into  one  wagon,  and  were  es- 
sential for  daily  use.  This  accomplished,  Messrs. 
Graves  and  Breen  each  loaned  him  an  ox,  and  these  in 
addition  to  his  own  ox  and  cow  yoked  together,  formed 
his  team.  Upon  examination,  it  was  found  that  the 
woodwork  of  all  the  wagons  had  been  shrunk  and 
cracked  by  the  dry  atmosphere.  One  of  Mr.  Kese- 
berg's  and  one  of  my  father's  were  in  such  bad  condi- 
tion that  they  were  abandoned,  left  standing  near  those 
of  Mr.  Reed,  as  we  passed  out  of  camp. 

The  first  snow  of  the  season  fell  as  we  were  cross- 
ing the  narrow  strip  of  land  upon  which  we  had  rested 
and  when  we  encamped  for  the  night  on  its  boundary, 
the  waste  before  us  was  as  cheerless,  cold,  and  white 
as  the  winding  sheet  which  enfolds  the  dead. 

At  dawn  we  resumed  our  toilful  march,  and  travelled 
until   four   o'clock  the   following  morning,   when   we 

[43] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

reached  an  extensive  valley,  where  grass  and  water 
were  plentiful.  Several  oxen  had  died  during  the 
night,  and  it  was  with  a  caress  of  pity  that  the  surviv- 
ing were  relieved  of  their  yokes  for  the  day.  The  next 
sunrise  saw  us  on  our  way  over  a  range  of  hills  slop- 
ing down  to  a  valley  luxuriant  with  grass  and  springs 
of  delicious  water,  where  antelope  and  mountain  sheep 
were  grazing,  and  where  we  saw  Indians  who  seemed 
never  to  have  met  white  men  before.  We  were  three 
days  in  crossing  this  magnificent  stretch  of  country, 
which  we  called,  **  Valley  of  Fifty  Springs.''  In  it, 
several  wagons  and  large  cases  of  goods  were  cached 
by  our  company,  and  secret  marks  were  put  on  trees 
near  by,  so  that  they  could  be  recovered,  should  their 
owners  return  for  them. 

While  on  the  desert,  my  father's  wagons  had  trav- 
elled last  in  the  train,  iM  order  that  no  one  should 
stray,  or  be  left  to  die  alone.  But  as  soon  as  we 
reached  the  mountainous  country,  he  took  the  lead  to 
open  the  way.  Uncle  Jacob's  wagons  were  always 
close  to  ours,  for  the  two  brothers  worked  together, 
one  responding  when  the  other  called  for  help;  and 
with  the  assistance  of  their  teamsters,,  they  were  able 
to  free  the  trail  of  many  obstructions  and  prevent 
unnecessary  delays. 

From  the  Valley  of  Fifty  Springs,  we  pursued  a 
southerly  course  over  more  hills,  and  through  fertile 
valleys,  where  we  saw  Indians  in  a  state  of  nudity, 
who  looked  at  us  from  a  distance,  but  never  ap- 
proached our  wagons,  nor  molested  any  one.     On  the 

[44] 


INDIANS  IN  CAMP 

twenty-fourth  of  September,  we  turned  due  north  and 
found  the  tracks  of  wagon  wheels,  which  guided  us 
to  the  valley  of  *^  Mary's  River,"  or  ^*  Ogden's  Riv- 
er,'^ and  on  the  thirtieth,  put  us  on  the  old  emigrant 
road  leading  from  Fort  Hall.  This  welcome  landmark 
inspired  us  with  renewed  trust;  and  the  energizing 
hope  that  Stanton  and  McCutchen  would  soon  appear, 
strengthened  our  sorely  tried  courage.  This  day  was 
also  memorable,  because  it  brought  us  a  number  of 
Indians  who  must  have  been  Fremont's  guides,  for 
they  could  give  information,  and  understand  a  little 
English.  They  went  into  camp  with  us,  and  by  word 
and  sign  explained  that  we  were  still  far  from  the  sink 
of  Mary's  River,  but  on  the  right  trail  to  it. 

After  another  long  day's  drive,  we  stopped  on  a 
mountain-side  close  to  a  spring  of  cold,  sweet  water. 
While  supper  was  being  prepared,  one  of  the  fires 
crept  beyond  bounds,  spread  rapidly,  and  threatened 
destruction  to  part  of  our  train.  At  the  critical  mo- 
ment two  strange  Indians  rushed  upon  the  scene  and 
rendered  good  service.  After  the  fire  was  extin- 
guished, the  Indians  were  rewarded,  and  were  also 
given  a  generous  meal  at  the  tent  of  Mr.  Graves. 
Later,  they  settled  themselves  in  friendly  fashion  be- 
side his  fire  and  were  soon  fast  asleep.  Next  morning, 
the  Indians  were  gone,  and  had  taken  with  them  a  new 
shirt  and  a  Voke  of  good  oxen  belonging  to  their  host. 

Within  the  week,  Indians  again  sneaked  up  to  camp, 
and  stole  one  of  Mr.  Graves's  saddle-horses.  These 
were  trials  which  made  men  swear  vengeance,  yet  no 

[45] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

one  felt  that  it  would  be  safe  to  follow  the  marauders. 
Who  could  know  that  the  train  was  not  being  stealthily 
followed  by  cunning  plunderers  who  would  await  their 
chance  to  get  away  with  the  wagons,  if  left  weakly 
guarded 1 

Conditions  now  were  such  that  it  seemed  best  to 
divide  the  train  into  sections  and  put  each  section  un- 
der a  sub-leader.  Our  men  were  well  equipped  with 
side  arms,  rifles,  and  ammunition;  nevertheless,  anx- 
ious moments  were  common,  as  the  wagons  moved 
slowly  and  singly  through  dense  thickets,  narrow  de- 
files, and  rugged  mountain  gorges,  one  section  often 
being  out  of  sight  of  the  others,  and  each  man  realiz- 
ing that  there  could  be  no  concerted  action  in  the  event 
of  a  general  attack;  that  each  must  stay  by  his  own 
wagon  and  defend  as  best  he  could  the  lives  committed 
to  his  care.  No  one  rodp  horseback  now,  except  the 
leaders,  and  those  in  charge  of  the  loose  cattle.  When 
darkness  obscured  the  way,  and  after  feeding-time, 
each  section  formed  its  wagons  into  a  circle  to  serve  as 
cattle  corral,  and  night  watches  were  keenly  alert  to 
give  a  still  alarm  if  anything  unusual  came  within 
sight  or  sound. 

Day  after  day,  from  dawn  to  twilight,  we  moved  on- 
ward, never  stopping,  except  to  give  the  oxen  the  nec- 
essary nooning,  or  to  give  them  drink  when  water  was 
available.  Gradually,  the  distance  between  sections 
lengthened,  and  so  it  happened  that  the  wagons  of 
my  father  and  my  uncle  were  two  days  in  advance  of 
the  others,  on  the  eighth  of  October,  when  Mr.  Reed, 

[461 


CAUSE  OF  THE  QUAREEL 

on  horseback,  overtook  us.  He  was  haggard  and  in 
great  tribulation.  His  lips  quivered  as  he  gave  sub- 
stantially the  following  account  of  circumstances 
which  had  made  him  the  slayer  of  his  friend,  and  a 
lone"  wanderer  in  the  wilderness. 

On  the  morning  of  October  5,  when  Mr.  Reed's  sec- 
tion broke  camp,  he  and  Mr.  Eddy  ventured  otf  to 
hunt  antelope,  and  were  shot  at  a  number  of  times  by 
Indians  with  bows  and  arrows.  Empty-handed  and 
disappointed,  the  two  followed  and  overtook  their 
companions  about  noon,  at  the  foot  of  a  steep  hill 
near  **  Gravelly  Ford,''  where  the  teams  had  to  be 
doubled  for  the  ascent.  All  the  wagons,  except  Pike's 
and  Reed's,  and  one  of  Graves's  in  charge  of  John 
Snyder,  had  already  been  taken  to  the  top.  Snyder 
was  in  the  act  of  starting  his  team,  when  Milton  El- 
liot, driving  Reed's  oxen,  with  Eddy's  in  the  lead,  also 
started.  Suddenly,  the  Reed  and  Eddy  cattle  became 
unmanageable,  and  in  some  way  got  mixed  up  with 
Snyder's  team.  This  provoked  both  drivers,  and 
fierce  words  passed  between  them.  Snyder  declared 
that  the  Reed  team  ought  to  be  made  to  drag  its  wagon 
up  without  help.  Then  he  began  to  beat  his  own  cat- 
tle about  the  head  to  get  them  out  of  the  way. 

Mr.  Reed  attempted,  to  remonstrate  with  him  for 
his  cruelty,  at  which  Snyder  became  more  enraged, 
and  threatAied  to  strike  both  Reed  and  Elliot  with 
his  whip  for  interfering.  Mr.  Reed  replied  sharply 
that  they  would  settle  the  matter  later.  This,  Synder 
took  as  a  threat,  and  retorted,  *  *  No,  we  '11  settle  it 

[47] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

right  here, ' '  and  struck  Reed  over  the  head  with  the 
butt  end  of  his  whip,  cutting  an  ugly  scalp  wound. 

Mrs.  Reed,  who  rushed  between  the  two  men  for  the 
purpose  of  separating  them,  caught  the  force  of  the 
second  blow  from  Snyder's  whip  on  her  shoulder. 
While  dodging  the  third  blow,  Reed  drew  his  hunting 
knife  and  stabbed  Snyder  in  the  left  breast.  Fifteen 
minutes  later,  John  Snyder,  with  his  head  resting  on 
the  arm  of  William  Graves,  died,  and  Mr.  Reed  stood 
beside  the  corpse,  dazed  and  sorrowful. 

Near-by  sections  were  immediately  called  into  camp, 
and  gloom,  consternation,  and  anger  pervaded  it.  Mr. 
Reed  and  family  were  taken  to  their  tent  some  dis- 
tance from  the  others  and  guarded  by  their  friends. 
Later,  an  assembly  was  convened  to  decide  what 
should  be  done.  The  majority  declared  the  deed  mur- 
der, and  demanded  retrib^ion.  Mr.  Eddy  and  others 
pleaded  extenuating  circumstances  and  proposed  that 
the  accused  should  leave  the  camp.  After  heated  dis- 
cussion this  compromise  was  adopted,  the  assembly 
voting  that  Mr.  Reed  should  be  banished  from  the 
company. 

Mr.  Reed  maintained  that  the  deed  was  not  prompted 
by  malice,  that  he  had  acted  in  self-defence  and  in  de- 
fence of  his  wife;  and  that  he  would  not  be  driven 
from  his  helpless,  dependent  family.  The  assembly 
promised  that  the  company  would  care  for  his  family, 
and  limited  his  stay  in  camp.  His  wife,  fearing  the 
consequence  of  noncompliance  with  the  sentence, 
begged  him  to  abide  by  it,  and  to  push  on  to  the  set- 

[48] 


MR.  REED'S  NARRATIVE 

tlement,  procure  food  and  assistance,  and  return  for 
her  and  their  children.  The  following  morning,  after 
participating  in  the  funeral  rites  over  the  lamented 
dead,  Mr.  Reed  took  leave  of  his  friends  and  sorrow- 
ing family  and  left  the  camp. 

The  group  around  my  father's  wagon  were  deeply 
touched  by  Mr.  Reed's  narrative.  Its  members  were 
friends  of  the  slain  and  of  the  slayer.  Their  sym- 
pathies clustered  around  the  memory  of  the  dead,  and 
clung  to  the  living.  They  deplored  the  death  of  a  fel- 
low traveller,  who  had  manfully  faced  many  hardships, 
and  was  young,  genial,  and  full  of  promise.  They  re- 
gretted the  act  which  took  from  the  company  a  mem- 
ber who  had  been  prominent  in  its  organization,  had 
helped  to  formulate  its  rules,  and  had,  up  to  that  un- 
fortunate hour,  been  a  co-worker  with  the  other  lead- 
ing spirits  for  its  best  interests,  It  was  plain  that 
the  hardships  and  misfortunes  of  the  journey  had 
sharpened  the  tempers  of  both  men,  and  the  vexations 
of  the  morning  had  been  too  much  for  the  overstrained 
nerves. 

Mr.  Reed  breakfasted  at  our  tent,  but  did  not  con- 
tinue his  journey  alone.  Walter  Herron,  one  of  my 
father's  helpers,  decided  to  accompany  him,  and  after 
hurried  preparations,  they  went  away  together,  bear- 
ing an  urgent  appeal  from  my  father  to  Captain  Sut- 
ter for  necessary  teams  and  provisions  to  carry  the 
company  through  to  California,  also  his  personal 
pledge  in  writing  that  he  would  be  responsible  for 
the  payment  of  the  debt  as  soon  as  he  should  reach 

149] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

the  settlement.  My  father  believed  the  two  men  would 
reach  their  destination  long  before  the  slowly  moving- 
train. 

Immediately  after  the  departure  of  Messrs.  Reed 
and  Herron,  our  wagons  moved  onward.  Night  over- 
took us  at  a  grewsome  place  where  wood  and  feed  were 
scarce  and  every  drop  of  water  was  browned  by  alkali. 
There,  hungry  wolves  howled,  and  there  we  found  and 
buried  the  bleaching  bones  of  Mr.  Salle,  a  member  of 
the  Hastings  train,  who  had  been  shot  by  Indians. 
After  his  companions  had  left  his  grave,  the  savages 
had  returned,  dug  up  the  body,  robbed  it  of  its  cloth- 
ing, and  left  it  to  the  wolves.. 

At  four  o'clock  the  following  morning,  October  10, 
the  rest  of  the  company,  having  travelled  all  night, 
drove  into  camp.  Many  were  in  a  state  of  great  ex- 
citement, and  some  almosj^  frenzied  by  the  physical 
and  mental  suffering  they  had  endured.  Accounts  of 
the  Reed-Snyder  tragedy  differed  somewhat  from  that 
we  had  already  heard.  The  majority  held  that  the  as- 
sembly had  been  lenient  with  Mr.  Reed  and  considerate 
for  his  family;  that  the  action  taken  had  been  largely 
influenced  by  rules  which  Messrs.  Reed,  Donner, 
Thornton,  and  others  had  suggested  for  the  govern- 
ment of  Colonel  Russell's  train,  and  that  there  was  no 
occasion  for  criticism,  since  the  sentence  was  for  the 
transgression,  and  not  for  the  individual. 

The  loss  of  aged  Mr.  Hardcoop,  whose  fate  was 
sealed  soon  after  the  death  of  John  Synder,  was  the 
subject  of  bitter  contention.     The  old  man  was  trav- 

[50] 


LOST  UPON  THE  EOAD 

elling  with  the  Keseberg  family,  and,  in  the  heavy  sand, 
when  that  family  walked  to  lighten  the  load,  he  was 
required  to  do  likewise.  The  first  night  after  leaving 
Gravelly  Ford,  he  did  not  come  into  camp  with  the 
rest.  The  company,  fearing  something  amiss,  sent  a 
man  on  horseback  to  bring  him  in.  He  was  found 
five  miles  from  camp,  completely  exhausted  and  his 
feet  in  a  terrible  condition. 

The  following  morning,  he  again  started  with  Kese- 
berg, and  when  the  section  had  been  under  way  only 
a  short  time,  the  old  man  approached  Mr.  Eddy  and 
begged  for  a  place  in  some  other  wagon,  saying  he  was 
sick  and  exhausted,  and  that  Keseberg  had  put  him 
out  to  die.  The  road  was  still  through  deep,  loose 
sand,  and  Mr.  Eddy  told  him  if  he  would  only  manage 
to  go  forward  until  the  road  should  be  easier  on  the 
oxen,  he  himself  would  take  him  in.  Hardcoop  prom- 
ised to  try,  yet  the  roads  became  so  heavy  that  prog- 
ress was  yet  slower  and  even  the  small  children  were 
forced  to  walk,  nor  did  any  one  see  when  Mr.  Hardcoop 
dropped  behind. 

Mr.  Eddy  had  the  first  watch  that  night,  and  kept 
a  bright  fire  burning  on  the  hillside  in  hopes  that  it 
would  guide  the  belated  into  camp.  Milton  Elliot 
went  on  guard  at  midnight,  and  kept  the  fire  till  morn- 
ing, yet  neither  sign  nor  sound  of  the  missing  came 
over  that  desolate  trail. 

In  vain  the  watchers  now  besought  Keseberg  to  re- 
turn for  Hardcoop.  Next  they  applied  to  Messrs. 
Graves  and  Breen,  who  alone  had  saddle  horses  able 

[51] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

to  carry  the  helpless  man,  but  neither  of  them  would 
risk  his  animals  again  on  that  perilous  road.  In  des- 
peration, Messrs.  William  Pike,  Milton  Elliot,  and  Wil- 
liam Eddy  proposed  to  go  out  afoot  and  carry  him 
in,  if  the  wagons  would  wait.  Messrs.  Graves  and 
Breen,  however,  in  language  so  plain  and  homely  that 
it  seemed  heartless,  declared  that  it  was  neither  the 
voice  of  common  sense,  nor  of  humanity  that  asked  the 
wagons  to  wait  there  in  the  face  of  danger,  while  three 
foolhardy  men  rushed  back  to  look  for  a  helpless  one, 
whom  they  had  been  unable  to  succor  on  the  previous 
day,  and  for  whom  they  could  make  no  provision  in 
the  future,  even  if  they  should  succeed  then  in  snatch- 
ing him  from  the  jaws  of  death. 

This  exposition  of  undeniable  facts  defeated  the 
plans  of  the  would-be  rescuers,  yet  did  not  quiet  their 
consciences.  When  the  section  halted  at  noon,  they 
again  begged,  though  in  vsftn,  for  horses  which  might 
enable  them  to  do  something  for  their  deserted  com- 
panion. 

My  father  listened  thoughtfully  to  the  accounts  of 
that  harrowing  incident,  and  although  he  realized  that 
death  must  have  ended  the  old  man's  sufferings  within 
a  few  hours  after  he  dropped  by  the  wayside,  he  could 
not  but  feel  deeply  the  bitterness  of  such  a  fate. 

Who  could  peer  into  the  near  future  and  read  be- 
tween its  lines  the  greater  suffering  which  Mr.  Hard- 
coop  had  escaped,  or  the  trials  in  store  for  us? 

We  were  in  close  range  of  ambushed  savages,  lying 
in  wait  for  spoils.     While  the  company  were  hurry- 

[52] 


THIEVING  INDIANS 

ing  to  get  into  marcliing  order,  Indians  stole  a  milcli 
cow  and  several  horses  belonging  to  Mr.  Graves.  Em- 
boldened by  success,  they  made  a  raid  on  our  next 
camp  and  stampeded  a  bunch  of  eighteen  horned  cat- 
tle belonging  to  Mr.  Wolfinger  and  my  father  and 
Uncle  Jacob,  and  also  flesh-wounded  several  poor 
beasts  with  arrows.  These  were  more  serious  hin- 
drances than  we  had  yet  experienced.  Still,  undaunted 
by  the  alarming  prospects  before  us,  we  immediately 
resumed  travel  with  cows  under  yoke  in  place  of  the 
freshly  injured  oxen. 


im] 


CHAPTER  VI 

INDIAN     DEPEEDATIONS WOLFIXGEr's     DISAPPEARANCE 

STANTON    RETURNS    WITH    SUPPLIES   FURNISHED   BY    CAP- 
TAIN SUTTER DONNER  WAGONS  SEPARATED  FROM  TRAIN 

FOREVER TERRIBLE     PIECE     OF     NEWS FORCED     INTO 

SHELTER  AT  DONNER  LAKE DONNER  CAMP  ON  PROSSER 

CREEK. 

ALL  who  managed  to  get  beyond  the  sink  of 
Ogden's  River  before  midnight  of  October  12, 
reached  Geyser  Springs  without  further  molestation, 
but  the  belated,  who  encamped  at  the  sink  were 
surprised  at  daylight  by  t]>e  Indians,  who,  while  the 
herders  were  hurriedly  taking  a  cup  of  coffee,  swooped 
down  and  killed  twenty-one  head  of  cattle.  Among 
the  number  were  all  of  Mr.  Eddy's  stock,  except  an 
ox  and  a  cow  that  would  not  work  together.  Mad- 
dened by  his  appalling  situation,  Eddy  called  for  ven- 
geance on  his  despoilers,  and  would  have  rushed  to 
certain  death,  if  the  breaking  of  the  lock  of  his  rifle 
at  the  start  had  not  stopped  him. 

Sullen  and  dejected,  he  cached  the  contents  of  his  wag- 
ons, and  with  a  meagre  supply  of  food  in  a  pack  on  his 
back,  he  and  his  wife,  each  carrying  a  child,  set  forth  to  fin- 
ish the  journey  on  foot.  To  add  to  their  discomfort,  they 
saw  Indians  on  adjacent  hills  dancing  and  gesticulating  in 
savage  delight.     In  relating  the  above  occurrence  after  the 

[541 


DISAPPEARANCE  OP  MR.  WOLFINGER 

journey  was  finished,  Mr.  Eddy  declared  that  no  language 
could  portray  the  desolation  and  heartsick  feeling,  nor  the 
phj^sical  and  mental  torture  which  he  and  his  wife  experi- 
enced while  travelling  between  the  sink  of  Ogden's  River 
and  the  Geyser  Springs.* 

It  was  during  that  trying  week  that  Mr.  Wolfinger 
mysteriously  disappeared.  At  the  time,  he  and  Kese- 
berg,  with  their  wagons,  were  at  the  rear  of  the  train^ 
and  their  wives  were  walking  in  advance  with  other 
members  of  the  company.  When  camp  was  made, 
those  two  wagons  were  not  in  sight,  and  after  dark 
the  alarmed  wives  prevailed  on  friends  to  go  in  search 
of  their  missing  husbands.  The  searchers  shortly 
found  Keseberg  leisurely  driving  toward  camp.  He 
assured  them  that  Wolfinger  was  not  far  behind  him, 
so  they  returned  without  further  search. 

All  night  the  frantic  wife  listened  for  the  sound  of 
the  coming  of  her  husband,  and  so  j)oignant  was  her 
grief  that  at  break  of  day,  William  Graves,  Jr.,  and 
two  companions  went  again  in  search  of  Mr.  Wol- 
finger. Five  or  six  miles  from  camp,  they  came  upon 
his  tenantless  wagon,  with  the  oxen  unhooked  and  feed- 
ing on  the  trail  near-by.  Nothing  in  the  wagon  had 
been  disturbed,  nor  did  they  find  any  sign  of  struggle, 
or  of  Indians.  After  a  diligent  search  for  the  miss- 
ing man,  his  wagon  and  team  was  brought  to  camp 
and  restored  to  Mrs.  Wolfinger,  and  she  was  permitted 
to  believe  tl:^t  her  husband  had  been  murdered  by  In- 
dians and  his  body  carried  off.  Nevertheless,  some 
suspected  Keseberg  of  having  had  a  hand  in  his  dis- 

*Thornton. 

[551 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

appearance,  as  be  knew  that  Mr.  Wolfinger  carried  a 
large  sum  of  money  on  his  person. 

Three  days  later  Reinhart  and  Spitzer,  who  had  not 
been  missed,  came  into  camp,  and  Mrs.  Wolfinger  was 
startled  to  recognize  her  husband's  gun  in  their  pos- 
session. They  explained  that  they  were  in  the  wagon 
with  Mr.  Wolfinger  when  the  Indians  rushed  upon 
them,  drove  them  ot¥,  killed  Wolfinger  and  burned  the 
wagon.  My  father  made  a  note  of  this  conflicting 
statement  to  help  future  investigation  of  the  case. 

At  Geyser  Springs,  the  company  cached  valuable 
goods,  among  them  several  large  cases  of  books  and 
other  heavy  articles  belonging  to  my  father.  As  will 
be  seen  later,  the  load  in  our  family  wagon  thus  light- 
ened through  pity  for  our  oxen,  also  lessened  the 
severity  of  an  accident  which  otherwise  might  have 
been  fatal  to  Georgia  and  me. 

On  the  nineteenth  of  October,  near  the  present  site  of 
Wadsworth,  Nevada,  we  met  Mr.  Stanton  returning 
from  Sutter's  Fort  with  two  Indian  herders  driving 
seven  mules,  laden  with  flour  and  jerked  beef.  Their 
arrival  was  hailed  with  great  joy,  and  after  a  brief 
consultation  with  my  father,  Stanton  and  his  Indians 
continued  toward  the  rear,  in  order  to  distribute  first 
to  those  most  in  need  of  provisions,  also  that  the  pack 
animals  might  be  the  sooner  set  apart  to  the  use  of 
those  whose  teams  had  given  out,  or  had  been  de- 
stroyed by  Indians. 

Mr.  Stanton  had  left  Mr.  McCutchen  sick  at  Sut- 
ter's Fort.     He  brought  information  also  concerning 

15S] 


DEATH  OF  MR.  PIKE 

Messrs.  Reed  and  Herron,  whom  he  had  met  in  the 
Sacramento  valley.  At  the  time  of  meeting,  they  were 
quite  a  distance  from  the  settlement,  had  been  without 
food  three  days,  and  Mr.  Reed's  horse  was  com- 
pletely worn  out.  Mr.  Stanton  had  furnished  Mr. 
Reed  with  a  fresh  mount,  and  provisions  enough  to 
carry  both  men  to  Sutter's  Fort. 

In  camp  that  night,  Mr.  Stanton  outlined  our  course 
to  the  settlement,  and  in  compliance  with  my  father's 
earnest  wish,  consented  to  lead  the  train  across  the 
Sierra  Nevada  Mountains.  Frost  in  the  air  and  snow 
on  the  distant  peaks  warned  us  against  delays;  yet, 
notwithstanding  the  need  of  haste,  we  were  obliged 
to  rest  our  jaded  teams.  Three  yoke  of  oxen  had  died 
from  exhaustion  within  a  week,  and  several  of  those 
remaining  were  not  in  condition  to  ascend  the  heavy 
grades  before  them. 

On  the  twentieth,  Mr.  Pike  met  death  in  his  own 
tent  by  the  accidental  discharge  of  a  six-shooter  in 
the  hands  of  Mr.  Foster,  his  brother-in-law.  He  left 
a  young  wife,  and  two  small  children,  Naomi,  three 
years  of  age,  and  Catherine,  a  babe  in  arms.  His  loss 
was  keenly  felt  by  the  company,  for  he  was  highly 
esteemed. 

We  broke  camp  on  the  twenty-second,  and  my  father 
and  uncle  took  our  wagons  to  the  rear  of  the  train  in 
order  to  favor  our  cattle,  and  also  to  be  near  families 
whose  teams  might  need  help  in  getting  up  the  moun- 
tains. That  day  we  crossed  the  Truckee  River  for 
the  forty-ninth  and  last  time  in  eighty  miles,  and  en- 

[57] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

camped  for  the  night  at  the  top  of  a  high  hill,  where 
we  received  our  last  experience  of  Indian  cruelty. 
The  perpetrator  was  concealed  behind  a  willow,  and 
with  savage  vim  and  well  trained  hand,  sent  nineteen 
arrows  whizzing  through  the  air,  and  each  arrow 
struck  a  different  ox.  Mr.  Eddy  caught  him  in  the 
act ;  and  as  he  turned  to  flee,  the  white  man 's  rifle  ball 
struck  him  between  the  shoulders  and  pierced  his  body. 
With  a  spring  into  the  air  and  an  agonizing  shriek,  he 
dropped  lifeless  into  the  bushes  below.  Strange,  but 
true,  not  an  ox  was  seriously  hurt! 

The  train  took  the  trail  early  next  morning,  expect- 
ing to  cross  the  summit  of  the  Sierras  and  reach  Cal- 
ifornia in  less  than  two  weeks. 

The  following  circumstances,  which  parted  us  for- 
ever from  the  train  which  father  had  led  through  so 
many  difficulties,  were  tcJd  me  by  my  sister,  Mrs. 
Elitha  C.  Wilder,  now  of  Bruceville,  California: 

Our  five  Donner  wagons,  and  Mrs.  Wolfinger's  wagon, 
were  a  day  or  more  behind  the  train,  and  between  twelve 
and  sixteen  miles  from  the  spot  where  we  later  made  our  win- 
ter camp,  when  an  accident  happened  which  nearly  cost  us 
your  life,  and  indirectly  prevented  our  rejoining  the  train. 
Your  mother  and  Frances  were  walking  on  ahead;  you  and 
Georgia  were  asleep  in  the  wagon;  and  father  was  walking 
beside  it,  down  a  steep  hill.  It  had  almost  reached  the  base 
of  the  incline  when  the  axle  to  the  fore  wheels  broke,  and  the 
wagon  tipped  over  on  the  side,  tumbling  its  contents  upon 
you  two  children.  Father  and  uncle,  in  great  alarm,  rushed 
to  your  rescue.  Georgia  was  soon  hauled  out  safely  through 
the  opening  in  the  back  of  the  wagon  sheets,  but  you  were 
nowhere  in  sight,  and  father  was  sure  you  were  smothering 
because  you  did  not  answer  his  call.  They  worked  breath- 
lessly getting  things  out,  and  finally  uncle  came  to  your  limp 

[58] 


THE  TRAIN  AT  DONNER  LAKE 

form.  You  could  not  have  lasted  much  longer,  they  said. 
How  thankful  we  all  were  that  our  heaviest  boxes  had  been 
cached  at  Geyser  Springs! 

Much  as  we  felt  the  shock,  there  was  little  time  for  self- 
indulgence.  Never  were  moments  of  greater  importance ;  for 
while  father  and  uncle  were  hewing  a  new  axle,  two  men 
came  from  the  head  of  the  company  to  tell  about  the  snow. 
It  was  a  terrible  piece  of  news! 

Those  men  reported  that  on  the  twenty-eighth  of 
that  month  the  larger  part  of  the  train  had  reached  a 
deserted  cabin  near  Truckee  Lake  (the  sheet  of  water 
now  known  as  Donner  Lake)  at  the  foot  of  Fremont's 
Pass  in  the  main  chain  of  the  Sierra  Nevada  Moun- 
tains. The  following  morning  they  had  proceeded  to 
within  three  miles  of  the  summit ;  but  finding  snow 
there  ^Ye  feet  in  depth,  the  trail  obliterated,  and  no 
place  for  making  camp,  they  were  obliged  to  return 
to  the  spot  they  had  left  early  in  the  day.  There,  they 
said,  the  company  had  assembled  to  discuss  the  next 
move,  and  great  confusion  prevailed  as  the  excited 
^  members  gave  voice  to  their  bitterest  fears.  Some 
proposed  to  abandon  the  wagons  and  make  the  oxen 
carry  out  the  children  and  provisions;  some  wanted 
to  take  the  children  and  rations  and  start  out  on  foot ; 
and  some  sat  brooding  in  dazed  silence  through  the 
long  night. 

The  messengers  further  stated  that  on  the  thirtieth, 
with  Stanton  as  leader,  and  despite  the  falling  sleet 
and  snow,  the  forward  section  of  the  party  united  m 
another  desperate  effort  to  cross  the  summit,  but  en- 
countered deeper  drifts  and  greater  difficulties.  As 
darkness  crept  over  the  whitened  waste,  wagons  be- 

[59] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

came  separated  and  lodged  in  the  snow ;  and  all  had  to 
cling  to  the  mountain-side  until  break  of  day,  when  the 
train  again  returned  to  its  twice  abandoned  camp, 
having  been  compelled,  however,  to  leave  several  of 
the  wagons  where  they  had  become  stalled.  The  re- 
port concluded  with  the  statement  that  the  men  at  once 
began  log-cutting  for  cabins  in  which  the  company 
might  have  to  pass  the  winter. 

After  the  messengers  left,  and  as  father  and  Uncle 
Jacob  were  hastening  preparations  for  our  own  de- 
parture, new  troubles  beset  us.  Uncle  was  giving  the 
finishing  touches  to  the  axle,  when  the  chisel  lie  was 
using  slipped  from  his  grasp,  and  its  keen  edge  struck 
and  made  a  serious  wound  across  the  back  of  father's 
right  hand  which  was  steadying  the  timber.  The  crip- 
pled hand  was  carefully  dressed,  and  to  quiet  uncle's 
fears  and  discomfort,  father  made  light  of  the  acci- 
dent, declaring  that  they  had  weightier  matters  for 
consideration  than  cuts  and  bruises.  The  consequences 
of  that  accident,  however,  were  far  more  wide-reaching 
than  could  have  been  anticipated. 

Up  and  up  we  toiled  until  we  reached  an  altitude  of 
six  thousand  feet,  and  were  within  about  ten  miles  of 
our  companions  at  the  lake,  when  the  intense  cold 
drove  us  into  camp  on  Prosser  Creek  in  Alder  Creek 
Valley,  a  picturesque  and  sheltered  nook  two  and  a 
half  miles  in  length  and  three-quarters  of  a  mile  in 
width.  But  no  one  observed  the  picturesque  grandeur 
of  the  forest-covered  mountains  which  hem  it  in  on  the 
north  and  west;  nor  that  eastward  and  southward  it 

[601 


A  PEEMANENT  CAMP 

looks  out  across  plateaus  to  the  Washoe  Mountains 
twenty  miles  away. 

A  piercing  wind  was  driving  storm-clouds  toward 
us,  and  those  who  understood  their  threatening  aspect 
realized  that  twenty-one  persons,  eight  of  them  help- 
less children,  were  there  at  the  mercy  of  the  pitiless 
storm-king. 

The  teams  were  hurriedly  unhooked,  the  tents 
pitched,  and  the  men  and  the  women  began  collecting 
material  for  more  suitable  quarters.  Some  felled 
trees,  some  lopped  off  the  branches,  and  some,  with 
oxen,  dragged  the  logs  into  position.  There  was 
enough  building  material  on  the  ground  for  a  good 
sized  foundation  four  logs  deep,  when  night  stopped 
the  work.  The  moon  and  stars  came  out  before  we 
went  to  bed,  yet  the  following  morning  the  ground  was 
covered  with  snow  two  or  three  feet  in  depth,  which 
had  to  be  shovelled  from  the  exposed  beds  before  their 
occupants  could  rise. 

I  remember  well  that  new  day.  All  plans  for  log 
cabins  had  to  be  abandoned.  There  was  no  sheltered 
nook  for  shivering  children,  so  father  lifted  Georgia 
and  me  on  to  a  log,  and  mother  tucked  a  buffalo  robe 
around  us,  saying,  ^^  Sit  here  until  we  have  a  better 
place  for  you."  There  we  sat  snug  and  dry,  chatting 
and  twisting  our  heads  about,  watching  the  hurrying, 
anxious  workers.  Those  not  busy  at  the  wagons  were 
helping  the  builders  to  construct  a  permanent  camp. 

They  cleared  a  space  under  a  tall  pine  tree  and  re- 
set the  tent  a  few  feet  south  of  its  trunk,  facing  the 

[61] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

sunrise.  Then,  following  the  Indian  method  as  de- 
scribed by  John  Baptiste,  a  rude  semi-circular  hut  of 
poles  was  added  to  the  tent,  the  tree-trunk  forming 
part  of  its  north  wall,  and  its  needled  boughs,  the 
rafters  and  cross-pieces  to  the  roof.  The  structure 
was  overlaid  so  far  as  possible  with  pieces  of  cloth, 
old  quilts",  and  buffalo  robes,  then  with  boughs  and 
branches  of  pine  and  tamarack.  A  hollow  was  scooped 
in  the  ground  near  the  tree  for  a  fireplace,  and  an 
opening  in  the  top  served  as  chimney  and  ventilator. 
One  opening  led  into  the  tent  and  another  served  as 
an  outer  door. 

To  keep  the  beds  off  the  wet  earth,  two  rows  of 
short  posts  were-  driven  along  the  sides  in  the  tent, 
and  poles  were  laid  across  the  tops,  thus  forming 
racks  to  support  the  pine  boughs  upon  which  the  beds 
should  be  made.  While  this  was  being  done,  Elitha, 
Leanna,  and  Mrs.  Wolfinger  were  bringing  poles  and 
brush  with  which  to  strengthen  and  sheath  the  tent 
walls  against  wind  and  weather.  Even  Sister  Fran- 
ces looked  tall  and  helpful  as  she  trudged  by  with  her 
little  loads. 

The  combination  of  tent  and  hut  was  designed  for 
my  father  and  family  and  Mrs.  Wolfinger.  The  team- 
sters, Samuel  Shoemaker,  Joseph  Reinhart,  James 
Smith,  and  John  Baptiste,  built  their  hut  in  Indian 
wigwam  fashion.  Not  far  from  us,  across  the  stream, 
braced  against  a  log,  was  reared  a  mixed  structure  of 
brush  and  tent  for  use  of  Uncle  Jacob,  Aunt  Betsy, 
and  William  and  Solomon  Hook  (Aunt  Betsy's  sons 

[62] 


A  HEAVY  SNOWFALL 

by  a  former  husband),  and  their  five  small  children, 
George,  Mary,  Isaac,  Lewis,  and  Samuel  Donner. 

Before  we  two  could  leave  our  perch,  the  snow  was 
falling  faster  and  in  larger  flakes.  It  made  pictures 
for  Georgia  and  me  upon  the  branches  of  big  and  little 
trees;  it  gathered  in  a  ridge  beside  us  upon  the  log; 
it  nestled  in  piles  upon  our  buffalo  robe;  and  by  the 
time  our  quarters  were  finished,  it  was  veiling  Uncle 
Jacob's  from  view.  Everything  within  was  cold, 
damp,  and  dreary,  until  our  tired  mother  and  elder 
sisters  built  the  fire,  prepared  our  supper,  and  sent  us 
to  bed,  each  with  a  lump  of  loaf  sugar  as  comforter. 


[68] 


CHAPTER  VII 

SNOWBOUND SCARCITY      OF      FOOD      AT      BOTH      CAMPS 

WATCHING  FOR  RETURN  OF  M 'CUTCHEN  AND  REED. 

WHEN  we  awoke  the  following  morning,  little 
heaps  of  snow  lay  here  and  there  upon  the 
door.  No  threshold  could  be  seen,  only  a  snow-bank 
reaching  up  to  the  white  plain  beyond,  where  every 
sound  was  muffled,  and  every  object  was  blurred  by. 
falling  flakes. 

Father's  face  was  very  grave.  His  morning  caress 
had  all  its  wonted  tenderness,  but  the  merry  twinkle 
was  gone  from  his  eye,  and  Jfehe  gladsome  note  from 
his  voice.  For  eight  consecutive  days,  the  fatal  snow 
fell  with  but  few  short  intermissions.  Eight  days,  in 
which  there  was  nothing  to  break  the  monotony  of 
torturing,  inactive  endurance,  except  the  necessity  of 
gathering  wood,  keeping  the  fires,  and  cutting  anew 
the  steps  which  led  upward,  as  the  snow  increased  in 
depth.     Hope  well-nigh  died  within  us. 

All  in  camp  fared  alike,  and  all  were  on  short  ra- 
tions. Three  of  our  men  became  dispirited,  said  that 
they  were  too  weak  and  hungry  to  gather  wood,  and 
did  not  care  how  soon  death  should  put  an  end  to  their 
miseries. 

The   out-of-door  duties  would  have  fallen  wholly 

[64] 


SUFFERING  OF  THE  ANIMALS 

upon  my  Aunt  Betsy  ^s  two  sons  and  on  John  Baptiste 
and  on  my  crippled  father,  had  the  women  lost  their 
fortitude.  They,  however,  hid  their  fears  from  their 
children,  even  from  each  other,  and  helped  to  gather 
fuel,  hunt  cattle,  and  keep  camp. 

Axes  were  dull,  green  wood  was  hard  to  cut,  and 
harder  to  carry,  whether  through  loose,  dry  snow,  or 
over  crusts  made  slippery  by  sleet  and  frost.  Cattle 
tracks  were  covered  over.  Some  of  the  poor  creatures 
had  perished  under  bushes  where  they  sought  shelter. 
A  few  had  become  bewildered  and  strayed ;  others  were 
found  under  trees  in  snow  pits,  which  they  themselves 
had  made  by  walking  round  and  round  the  trunks  to 
keep  from  being  snowed  under.  These  starvelings 
were  shot  to  end  their  sufferings,  and  also  with  the 
hope  that  their  hides  and  fleshless  bones  might  save 
the  lives  of  our  snow-beleaguered  party.  Every  part 
of  the  animals  was  saved  for  food.  The  locations  of 
the  carcasses  were  marked  so  that  they  could  be 
brought  piece  by  piece  into  camp;  and  even  the  green 
liides  were  spread  against  the  huts  to  serve  in  case  of 
need. 

After  the  storm  broke,  John  Baptiste  was  sent  with 
a  letter  from  my  mother  to  the  camp  near  the  lake. 
He  was  absent  a  number  of  days,  for  upon  his  arrival 
there,  he  found  a  party  of  fourteen  ready  to  start  next 
morning,  on  foot,  across  the  summit.  He  joined  it, 
but  after  two  days  of  *  ain  effort,  the  party  returned 
to  camp,  and  he  came  back  to  us  with  an  answer  to 
the  letter  he  had  delivered. 

[651 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

We  then  learned  that  most  of  those  at  the  lake  were 
better  housed  than  we.  Some  in  huts,  and  the  rest  in 
three  log  structures,  which  came  to  be  known  respect- 
ively as  the  Murphy,  Graves,  and  Breen  cabins.  The 
last  mentioned  was  the  relic  of  earlier  travellers  *  and 
had  been  grizzled  by  the  storms  of  several  winters. 
Yet,  despite  their  better  accommodations,  our  com- 
panions at  the  lake  were  harassed  by  fears  like  ours. 
They  too  were  short  of  supplies.  The  game  had  left 
the  mountains,  and  the  fish  in  the  lake  would  not  bite. 

Different  parties,  both  with  and  without  children, 
had  repeatedly  endeavored  to  force  their  way  out  of 
that  wilderness  of  snow,  but  each  in  turn  had  become 
confused,  and  unconsciously  moved  in  a  circle  back 
to  camp.  Several  persons  had  become  snow-blind. 
Every  landmark  was  lost,  even  to  Stanton,  who  had 
twice  crossed  the  range.         ^ 

All  now  looked  to  the  coming  of  McCutchen  and 
Reed  for  deliverance.  We  had  every  reason  to  expect 
them  soon,  for  each  had  left  his  family  with  the  com- 
pany, and  had  promised  to  return  with  succor.  More- 
over, Stanton  had  brought  tidings  that  the  timely 
assistance  of  himself  and  comrade  had  enabled  Reed 
to  reach  Sutter's  Fort  in  safety;  and  that  McCutchen 
would  have  accompanied  him  back,  had  he  not  been 
detained  by  illness. 

Well,  indeed,  was  it  that  we  could  not  know  that  at 
the  very  time  we  were  so  anxiously  awaiting  their 
arrival,  those  two  men,  after  struggling  desperately 

*Bnilt  by  Townsend  party  in  1844.  See  McGlashan's  '*  History  of 
the  Donner  Party." 

166] 


MOUNTAIN  STOKMS 

to  cross  the  snows,  were  finally  compelled  to  abandon 
the  attempt,  bury  the  precious  food  they  had  striven  to 
bring  us,  and  return  to  the  settlement. 

It  was  also  well  that  we  were  unaware  of  their  baf- 
fling fears,  when  the  vigorous  efforts  incited  by  the 
memorial  presented  by  Eeed  to  Commodore  Stockton, 
the  military  Governor  of  California,  were  likewise 
frustrated  by  mountain  storms. 


f67] 


CHAPTER  VIII 

ANOTHER  STORM FOUR  DEATHS  IN  DOXNER  CAMP FIELD 

MICE    USED    FOR    FOOD CHANGED    APPEARANCE    OF    THE 

STARVING SUNSHINE DEPARTURE  OF  THE  '  *  FORLORN 

hope'' WATCHING  FOR  RELIEF IMPOSSIBLE  TO  DIS- 
TURB THE  BODIES  OF  THE  DEAD  IN  DONNER  CAMP AR- 
RIVAL AND  DEPARTURE   OF   THE  FIRST  RELIEF  PARTY. 

MEANWHILE  with  us  in  tbe  Sierras,  November 
ended  with  four  days  and  nights  of  continuous 
snow,  and  December  rushed  ijj.  witli  a  wild,  shrieking* 
storm  of  wind,  sleet,  and  rain,  which  ceased  on  the 
third.  The  weather  remained  clear  and  cold  until  the 
ninth,  when  Milton  Elliot  and  Noah  James  came  on 
snowshoes  to  Donner's  camp,  from  the  lake  cabins,  to 
ascertain  if  their  captain  was  still  alive,  and  to  report 
the  condition  of  the  rest  of  the  company. 

Before  morning,  another  terrific  storm  came  swirl- 
ing and  whistling  down  oui  snowy  stairway,  making 
fires  unsafe,  freezing  every  drop  of  water  about  the 
camp,  and  shutting  us  in  from  the  light  of  heaven. 
Ten  days  later  Milton  Elliot  alone  fought  his  way 
back  to  the  lake  camp  with  these  tidings:  ^*  Jacob 
Donner,  Samuel  Shoemaker,  Joseph  Rhinehart,  and 

\68^ 


DEATHS  IN  THE  COMPANY 

James  Smith  are  dead,  and  the  others  in  a  low 
condition. '^  * 

Uncle  Jacob,  the  first  to  die,  was  older  than  my 
father,  and  had  been  in  miserable  health  for  years  be- 
fore we  left  Illinois.  He  had  gained  surprisingly  on 
the  journey,  yet  quickly  felt  the  influence  of  impending 
fate,  foreshadowed  by  the  first  storm  at  camp.  His 
courage  failed.     Complete  prostration  followed. 

My  father  and  mother  watched  with  him  during  the 
last  night,  and  the  following  afternoon  helped  to  lay 
his  body  in  a  cave  dug  in  the  mountain  side,  beneath 
the  snow.  That  snow  had  scarcely  resettled  when 
Samuel  Shoemaker's  life  ebbed  away  in  happy  delir- 
ium. He  imagined  himself  a  boy  again  in  his  father's 
house  and  thought  his  mother  had  built  a  fire  and  set 
before  him  the  food  of  which  he  was  fondest. 

But  when  Joseph  Rhinehart's  jend  drew  near,  his 
mind  wandered,  and  his  whitening  lips  confessed  a 
part  in  Mr.  Wolfinger's  death;  and  my  father,  listen- 
ing, knew  not  how  to  comfort  that  troubled  soul.  He 
could  not  judge  whether  the  self-condemning  words 
were  the  promptings  of  a  guilty  conscience,  or  the 
ravings  of  an  unbalanced  mind. 

Like  a  tired  child  falling  asleep,  was  James  Smith's 
death ;  and  Milton  Elliot,  who  helped  to  bury  the  four 
victims  and  then  carried  the  distressing  report  to  the 
lake  camp,  little  knew  that  he  would  spon  be  among 
those  later  called  to  render  a  final  accounting.  Yet 
it  was  even  so. 

*Patrick  Breen's  Diary. 

[69] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

Our  camp  having  been  thus  depleted  by  death,  Noah 
James,  who  had  been  one  of  my  father 's  drivers,  from 
Springfield  until  we  passed  out  of  the  desert,  now  cast 
his  lot  again  with  ours,  and  helped  John  Baptiste  to 
dig  for  the  carcasses  of  the  cattle.  It  was  weary  work, 
for  the  snow  was  higher  than  the  level  of  the  guide 
marks,  and  at  times  they  searched  day  after  day  and 
found  no  trace  of  hoof  or  horn.  The  little  field  mice 
that  had  crept  into  camp  were  caught  then  and  used 
to  ease  the  pangs  of  hunger.  Also  pieces  of  beef  hide 
were  cut  into  strips,  singed,  scraped,  boiled  to  the  con- 
sistency of  glue,  and  swallowed  with  an  effort ;  for  no 
degree  of  hunger  could  make  the  saltless,  sticky  sub- 
stance palatable.  Marrowless  bones  which  had  al- 
ready been  boiled  and  scraped,  were  now  burned  and 
eaten,  even  the  bark  and  twigs  of  pine  were  chewed  in 
the  vain  effort  to  soothe  the  gnawings  which  made  one 
cry  for  bread  and  meat. 

During  the  bitterest  weather  we  little  ones  were 
kept  in  bed,  and  my  place  was  always  in  the  middle 
where  Frances  and  Georgia,  snuggling  up  close,  gave 
me  of  their  warmth,  and  from  them  I  learned  many 
things  which  I  could  neither  have  understood  nor  re- 
membered had  they  not  made  them  plain. 

Just  one  happy  play  is  impressed  upon  my  mind. 
It  must  have  been  after  the  first  storm,  for  the  snow 
bank  in  front  of  the  cabin  door  was  not  high  enough 
to  keep  out  a  little  sunbeam  that  stole  down  the  steps 
and  made  a  bright  spot  upon  our  floor.  I  saw  it,  and 
sat  down  under  it,  held  it  on  my  lap,  passed  my  hand 

[70] 


law 


1ft 


rk 


'  -4: 


I 

i 


^^. 


THE  HOLIDAYS 

up  and  down  in  its  brightness,  and  found  that  I  coukl 
break  its  ray  in  two.  In  fact,  we  had  quite  a  frolic. 
I  fancied  that  it  moved  when  I  did,  for  it  warmed  the 
top  of  my  head,  kissed  first  one  cheek  and  then  the 
other,  and  seemed  to  run  up  and  down  my  arm.  Final- 
ly I  gathered  up  a  piece  of  it  in  my  apron  and  ran  to 
my  mother.  Great  was  my  surprise  when  I  carefully 
opened  the  folds  and  found  that  I  had  nothing  to 
show,  and  the  sunbeam  I  had  left  seemed  shorter. 
After  mother  explained  its  nature,  I  watched  it  creep 
back  slowly  up  the  steps  and  disappear. 

Snowy  Christmas  brought  us  no  *^glad  tidings,'^ 
and  New  Year's  Day  no  happiness.  Yet,  each  bright 
day  that  followed  a  storm  was  one  of  thanksgiving, 
on  which  we  all  crept  up  the  flight  of  snow  steps  and 
huddled  about  on  the  surface  in  the  blessed  sunshine, 
but  with  our  eyes  closed  against  its  painful  and  blind- 
ing glare. 

Once  my  mother  took  me  to  a  hole  where  I  saw 
smoke  coming  up,  and  she  told  me  that  its  steps  led 
down  to  Uncle  Jacob 's  tent,  and  that  we  would  go  down 
there  to  see  Aunt  Betsy  and  my  little  cousins. 

I  stooped  low  and  peered  into  the  dark  depths. 
Then  I  called  to  my  cousins  to  come  to  me,  because  I 
was  afraid  to  go  where  they  were.  I  had  not  seen 
them  sincQ^the  day  we  encamped.  At  that  time  they 
were  chubby  and  playful,  carrying  water  from  the 
creek  to  their  tent  in  small  tin  pails.  Now,  they  were 
so  changed  in  looks  that  I  scarcely  knew  them,  and 
they  stared  at  me  as  at  a  stranger.     So  I  was  glad 

[711 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

when  my  mother  came  up  and  took  me  back  to  our  own 
tent,  which  seemed  less  dreary  because  I  knew  the 
things  that  were  in  it,  and  the  faces  about  me. 

Father's  hand  became  worse.  The  swelling  and  in- 
flammation extending  up  the  arm  to  the  shoulder  pro- 
duced suffering  which  he  could  not  conceal.  Each  day 
that  we  had  a  fire,  I  watched  mother  sitting  by  his 
side,  with  a  basin  of  warm  water  upon  her  lap,  laving 
the  wounded  and  inflamed  parts  very  tenderly,  with 
a  strip  of  frayed  linen  wrapped  around  a  little  stick. 
I  remember  well  the  look  of  comfort  that  swept  over 
his  worn  features  as  she  laid  the  soothed  arm  back 
into  place. 

By  the  middle  of  January  the  snow  measured  twelve 
and  fourteen  feet  in  depth.  Nothing  could  be  seen  of 
our  abode  except  the  coils  of  smoke  that  found  their 
way  up  through  the  opening.'^  There  was  a  dearth  of 
water.  Prosser  Creek  was  frozen  over  and  covered 
with  snow.  Icicles  hung  from  the  branches  of  every 
tree.  The  stock  of  pine  cones  that  had  been  gathered 
for  lights  was  almost  consumed.  Wood  was  so  scarce 
that  we  coujd  not  have  fire  enough  to  cook  our  strips 
of  rawhide,  and  Georgia  heard  mother  say  that  we 
children  had  not  had  a  dry  garment  on  in  more  than  a 
week,  and  that  she  did  not  know  what  to  do  about  it. 
Then  like  a  smile  from  God,  came  another  sunny  day 
which  not  only  warmed  and  dried  us  thoroughly  but 
furnished  a  supply  of  water  from  dripping  snowbanks. 

The  twenty-first  was  also  bright,  and  John  Baptiste 
went  on  snowshoes  with  messages  to  the  lake  camp. 

r  72 1 


''  THE  FORLORN  HOPE  '' 

He  found  its  inmates  in  a  more  pitiable  condition  tiian 
we  were.  Only  one  death  had  occurred  there  since 
our  last  communication,  but  he  saw  several  of  the 
starving  who  could  not  survive  many  days. 

The  number  to  consume  the  slender  stock  of  food 
had  been  lessened,  however,  on  the  sixteenth  of  De- 
cember, some  six  weeks  previously,  by  the  departure 
of  William  Eddy,  Patrick  Dolan,  Lemuel  Murphy,  Wil- 
liam Foster,  Mrs.  Sarah  Foster,  Jay  Fosdick,  Mrs. 
Sarah  Fosdick,  Mrs.  William  McCutchen,  Mrs.  Harriet 
Pike,  Miss  Mary  Graves,  Franklin  Graves,  Sr.,  C.  T. 
Stanton,  Antonio,  Lewis,  and  Salvador. 

This  party,  which  called  itself  ^^  The  Forlorn 
Hope,'*  had  a  most  memorable  experience,  as  will  be 
shown  later.  In  some  instances  husband  had  parted 
from  wife,  and  father  from  children.  Three  young 
mothers  had  left  their  babes  in  the  arms  of  grand- 
mothers. It  was  a  dire  resort,  a  last  desperate  at- 
tempt, in  face  of  death,  to  save  those  dependent  upon 
them. 

Staff  in  hand,  they  had  set  forth  on  snowshoes,  each 
carrying  a  pack  containing  little  save  a  quilt  and  light 
rations  for  six  days'  journeying.  One  had  a  rifle,  am- 
munition, flmt,  and  hatchet  for  camp  use.  William 
Murphy  and  Charles  Burger,  who  had  originally  been 
of  the  number,  gave  out  before  the  close  of  the  first 
day,  and  crept  back  to  camp.  The  others  continued 
under  the  leadership  of  the  intrepid  Eddy  and  brave 
Stanton. 

John  Baptiste  remained  there  a  short  time  and  re- 

[73] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

turned  to  us,  saying,  *^  Those  at  the  other  camp  be- 
lieve the  promised  relief  is  close  at  hand !  ' ' 

This  rekindled  hope  in  us,  even  as  it  had  revived 
courage  and  prolonged  lives  in  the  lake  cabins,  and  we 
prayed,  as  they  were  praying,  that  the  relief  might 
come  before  its  coming  should  be  too  late. 

Oh,  how  we  watched,  hour  after  hour,  and  how  often 
each  day  John  Baptiste  climbed  to  the  topmost  bough 
of  a  tall  pine  tree  and,  with  straining  eyes,  scanned 
the  desolate  expanse  for  one  moving  speck  in  the  dis- 
tance, for  one  ruffled  track  on  the  snow  which  should 
ease  our  awful  suspense. 

Days  passed.  No  food  in  camp  except  an  unsavory 
beef  hide  —  pinching  hunger  called  for  more.  Again 
John  Baptiste  and  Noah  James  went  forth  in  anxious 
search  for  marks  of  our  buried  cattle.  They  made  ex- 
cavations, then  forced  their  tond-poles  deep,  deeper 
into  the  snow,  but  in  vain  their  efforts  —  the  nail  and 
hook  at  the  points  brought  up  no  sign  of  blood,  hair, 
or  hide.  In  dread  unspeakable  they  returned,  and 
said : 

*^  We  shall  go  mad;  we  shall  die!  It  is  useless  to 
hunt  for  the  cattle;  but  the  dead,  if  they  could  be 
reached,  their  bodies  might  keep  us  alive.'* 

**  No,''  replied  father  and  mother,  speaking  for 
themselves.  ''  No,  part  of  a  hide  still  remains. 
When  it  is  gone  we  will  perish,  if  that  be  the 
alternative. ' ' 

The  fact  was,  our  dead  could  not  have  been  dis- 
turbed even  had  the  attempt  been  made,  for  the  many 

[74] 


THE  RELIEF  PAETY 

snowfalls  of  winter  were  banked  about  them  firm  as 
granite  walls,  and  in  that  camp  was  neither  imple- 
ment nor  arm  strong  enough  to  reach  their  resting- 
places. 

It  was  a  long,  weary  waiting,  on  starvation  rations 
until  the  nineteenth  of  February.  I  did  not  see  any 
one  coming  that  morning;  but  I  remember  that,  sud- 
denly, there  was  an  unusual  stir  and  excitement  in  the 
camp.  Three  strangers  were  there,  and  one  was  talk- 
ing with  father.  The  others  took  packs  from  their 
;backs  and  measured  out  small  quantities  of  flour  and 
jerked  beef  and  two  small  biscuits  for  each  of  us. 
Then  they  went  up  to  fell  the  sheltering  pine  tree  over 
our  tent  for  fuel;  while  Noah  James,  Mrs.  Wolfinger, 
my  two  half-sisters,  and  mother  kept  moving  about 
hunting  for  things. 

Finally  Elitha  and  Leanna  came  and  kissed  me,  then 
father,  *^  good-bye,''  and  went  up  the  steps,  and  out  of 
sight.  Mother  stood  on  the  snow  where  she  could  see 
all  go  forth.  They  moved  in  single  file, —  the  leaders 
on  snowshoes,  the  weak  stepping  in  the  tracks  made 
by  the  strong.  Leanna,  the  last  in  line,  was  scarcely 
able  to  keep  up.  It  was  not  until  after  mother  came 
back  with  Frances  and  Georgia  that  I  was  made  to 
understand  that  this  was  the  long-hoped-for  relief 
party. 

It  had  come  and  gone,  and  had  taken  Noah  James, 
Mrs.  Wolfinger,  and  my  two  half-sisters  from  us;  then 
had  stopped  at  Aunt  Betsy's  for  William  Hook,  her 
eldest  son,  and  my  Cousin  George,  and  all  were  now  on 

[75] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

the  way  to  the  lake  cabins  to  join  others  who  were  able 
to  walk  over  the  snow  without  assistance. 

The  rescuers,  seven  in  number,  who  had  followed  in- 
structions given  them  at  the  settlement,  professed  to 
have  no  knowledge  of  the  Forlorn  Hope,  except  that 
this  first  relief  expedition  had  been  outfitted  by  Cap- 
tain Sutter  and  Alcalde  Sinclair  in  response  to  Mr. 
Eddy's  appeal,  and  that  other  rescue  parties  were 
being  organized  in  California,  and  would  soon  come 
prepared  to  carry  out  the  remaining  children  and  help- 
less grown  folk.  By  this  we  knew  that  Mr.  Eddy,  at 
least,  had  succeeded  in  reaching  the  settlement. 


[761 


CHAPTER  IX 

SUFFERINGS      OF      THE 
HUMAN  FLESH 

AND  EATEN DEER  KILLED INDIAN  Rmickeria THE 

*^  WHITE   man's   home  ''  AT  LAST. 

ALTHOUGH  we  were  so  meagrely  informed,  it  is 
well  that  my  readers  should,  at  this  point,  be- 
come familiar  with  the  experiences  of  the  expedition 
known  as  the  Forlorn  Hope,*  and  also  the  various 
measures  taken  for  our  relief  when  our  precarious 
condition  was  made  known  to  the  good  people  of  Cal- 
ifornia. It  will  be  remembered  that  the  Forlorn  Hope 
was  the  party  of  fifteen  which,  as  John  Baptiste  re- 
ported to  us,  made  the  last  unaided  attempt  to  cross 
the  mountains. 

Words  cannot  picture,  nor  mind  conceive,  more  tor- 
turing hardships  and  privations  than  were  endured  by 
that  little  band  on  its  way  to  the  settlement.  It  left 
the  camp  on  the  sixteenth  of  December,  with  scant  ra- 
tions for  six  days,  hoping  in  that  time  to  force  its  way 
to  Bear  Valley  and  there  find  game.     But  the  storms 

*The  experiences  of  the  Donner  Party,  to  which  he  refers  in  a  foot- 
note, suggested  to  Bret  Harte  the  opening  chapters  of  *'  Gabriel  Con- 
roy";  but  he  has  followed  the  sensational  accounts  circulated  by 
the  newspapers,  and  the  survivors  find  his  work  a  mere  travesty  of  the 
facts.  The  narrative,  however,  does  not  purport  to  set  forth  the  truth, 
but  is  confessedly  imaginative. 

[77]     , 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

which  had  been  so  pitiless  at  the  mountain  camps  fol- 
lowed the  unprotected  refugees  with  seemingly  fiend- 
ish fury.  After  the  first  day  from  camp,  its  members 
could  no  longer  keep  together  on  their  marches.  The 
stronger  broke  the  trail,  and  the  rest  followed  to  night- 
camp  as  best  they  could. 

On  the  third  day,  Stanton's  sight  failed,  and  he 
begged  piteously  to  be  led;  but,  soon  realizing  the 
heart-rending  plight  of  his  companions,  he  uncom- 
plainingly submitted  to  his  fate.  Three  successive 
nights,  he  staggered  into  camp  long  after  the  others 
had  finished  their  stinted  meal.  Always  he  was  shiv- 
ering from  cold,  sometimes  wet  with  sleet  and  rain. 

It  is  recorded  that  at  no  time  had  the  party  allowed 
more  than  an  ounce  of  food  per  meal  to  the  individual, 
yet  the  rations  gave  out  on  the  night  of  the  twenty- 
second,  while  they  were  still  m  a  wilderness  of  snow- 
peaks.  Mr.  Eddy  only  was  better  provided.  In  looking 
over  his  pack  that  morning  for  the  purpose  of 
throwing  away  any  useless  article,  he  unexpectedly 
found  a  small  bag  containing  about  a  half-pound  of 
dried  bear-meat.*  Fastened  to  the  meat  was  a  pen- 
cilled note  from  his  wife,  begging  him  to  save  the  hid- 
den treasure  until  his  hour  of  direst  need,  since  it 
might  then  be  the  means  of  saving  his  life.  The  note 
was  signed,  **  Your  own  dear  Elinor.''  With  tender- 
est  emotion,  he  slipped  the  food  back,  resolving  to  do 
the  dear  one's  bidding,  trusting  that  she  and  their 
children  might  live  until  he  should  return  for  them. 

*Mr.  Eddy  had  killed  the  bear  and  dried  the  meat  early  in  the 
winter. 

[78] 


BEAR  VALLEY,  FROM  EMIGRANT  GAP 


^fr 

xw-"-  ■ 

Bk^'l"^ 

^5 

I^^^^^^^B 

^B 

^^^^^^^^^^B           'Mif^'fJM 

w       fl 

^^B  ^ 

^■H 

Hj| 

H 

THE  TRACKLESS   MOUNTAINS 


SEPARATION  AND  HUNGER 

The  following  morning,  while  the  others  were  pre- 
paring to  leave  camp,  Stanton  sat  beside  the  smoulder- 
ing fire  smoking  his  pipe.  When  ready  to  go  forth, 
they  asked  him  if  he  was  coming,  and  he  replied, 
**  Yes,  1  am  coming  soon/'  Those  were  his  parting 
words  to  his  friends,  and  his  greeting  to  the  Angel  of 
Death.*  He  never  left  that  fireside,  and  his  compan- 
ions were  too  feeble  to  return  for  him  when  they  found 
he  did  not  come  into  camp. 

Twenty-four  hours  later,  the  members  of  that  hap- 
less little  band  threw  themselves  upon  the  desolate 
waste  of  snow  to  ponder  the  problems  of  life  and 
death;  to  search  each  the  other's  face  for  answer  to 
the  question  their  lips  durst  not  frame.  Fathers  who 
had  left  their  families,  and  mothers  who  had  left  their 
babes,  wanted  to  go  back  and  die  with  them,  if  die  they 
must ;  but  Mr.  Eddy  and  the  Indians  —  those  who  had 
crossed  the  range  with  Stanton  —  declared  that  they 
would  push  on  to  the  settlement.  Then  Mary  Graves, 
in  whose  young  heart  were  still  whisperings  of  hope, 
courageously  said: 

**  I,  too,  will  go  on,  for  to  go  back  and  hear  the  cries 
of  hunger  from  my  little  brothers  and  sisters  is  more 
than  I  can  stand.  I  shall  go  as  far  as  I  can,  let  the 
consequences  be  what  they  may." 

W.  F.  Graves,  her  father,  would  not  let  his  daughter 
proceed  afene,  and  finally  all  decided  to  make  a  final, 
supreme  effort.  Yet  —  think  of  it  —  they  were  with- 
out one  morsel  of  food! 

*His  body  was  found  there  later  by  the  First  Relief  Party. 

[791 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNEK  PAETY 

Even  the  wind  seemed  to  hold  its  breath  as  the  sug- 
gestion was  made  that,  ''  were  one  to  die,  the  rest 
might  live.''  Then  the  suggestion  was  made  that  lots 
be  cast,  and  whoever  drew  the  longest  slip  should  be 
the  sacrifice.  Mr.  Eddy  endorsed  the  plan.  Despite 
opposition  from  Mr.  Foster  and  others,  the  slips  of 
paper  were  prepared,  and  great-hearted  Patrick  Dolan 
drew  the  fatal  slip.  Patrick  Dolan,  who  had  come 
away  from  camp  that  his  famishing  friends  might  pro- 
long their  lives  by  means  of  the  small  stock  of  food 
which  he  had  to  leave!  Harm  a  hair  of  that  good 
man's  head?  Not  a  soul  of  that  starving  band  would 
do  it. 

Mr.  Eddy  then  proposed  that  they  resume  their 
journey  as  best  they  could  until  death  should  claim  a 
victim.  All  acquiesced.  Slowly  rising  to  their  feet, 
they  managed  to  stagger  and  to  crawl  forward  about 
three  miles  to  a  tree  which  furnislied  fuel  for  their 
Christmas  fire.  It  was  kindled  with  great  difficulty, 
for  in  cutting  the  boughs,  the  hatchet  blade  flew  off 
the  handle  and  for  a  time  was  lost  in  deep  snow. 

Meanwhile,  every  puff  of  wind  was  laden  with  kill- 
ing frost,  and  in  sight  of  that  glowing  fire,  Antonio 
froze  to  death.  Mr.  Graves,  who  was  also  breathing 
heavily,  when  told  by  Mr.  Eddy  that  he  was  dying, 
replied  that  he  did  not  care.  He,  however,  called  his 
daughters,  Mrs.  Fosdick  and  Mary  Graves,  to  him, 
and  by  his  parting  injunctions,  showed  that  he  was 
still  able  to  realize  keenly  the  dangers  that  beset  them. 
Kemembering  how  their  faces  had  paled  at  the  sug- 

[801 


DELIRIUM  OF  THE  SUFFERING 

gestion  of  using  human  flesh  for  food,  he  admonished 
them  to  put  aside  the  natural  repugnance  which  stood 
between  them  and  the  possibility  of  life.  He  com- 
manded them  to  banish  sentiment  and  instinctive 
loathing,  and  think  only  of  their  starving  mother, 
brothers,  and  sisters  whom  they  had  left  in  camp,  and 
avail  themselves  of  every  means  in  their  power  to  res- 
cue them.  He  begged  that  his  body  be  used  to  sustain 
the  famishing,  and  bidding  each  farewell,  his  spirit 
left  its  bruised  and  worn  tenement  before  half  the 
troubles  of  the  night  were  passed. 

About  ten  o  'clock,  pelting  hail,  followed  by  snow  on 
the  wings  of  a  tornado,  swept  every  spark  of  fire 
from  those  shivering  mortals,  whose  voices  now  min- 
gled with  the  shrieking  wind,  calling  to  heaven  for  re- 
lief. Mr.  Eddy,  knowing  that  all  would  freeze  to 
death  in  the  darkness  if  allowed  to  remain  exposed, 
succeeded  after  many  efforts  in  getting  them  close  to- 
gether between  their  blankets  where  the  snow  covered 
them. 

With  the  early  morning,  Patrick  Dolan  became  de- 
lirious and  left  camp.  He  was  brought  back  with  dif- 
ficulty and  forcibly  kept  under  cover  until  late  in  the 
day,  when  he  sank  into  a  stupor,  whence  he  passed 
quietly  into  that  sleep  which  knows  no  waking. 

The  crucial  hour  had  come.  Food  lay  before  the 
starving,  yet  every  eye  turned  from  it  and  every  hand 
dropped  irresolute. 

Another  night  of  agony  passed,  during  which  Lem- 
uel Murphy  became  delirious  and  called  long  and  loud 

[811 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

for  food;  but  the  cold  was  so  intense  that  it  kept  all 
under  their  blankets  until  four  o  'clock  in  the  after- 
noon, when  Mr.  Eddy  succeeded  in  getting  a  fire  in 
the  trunk  of  a  large  pine  tree.  Whereupon,  his  com- 
panions, instead  of  seeking  food,  crept  forth  and  broke 
off  low  branches,  put  them  down  before  the  fire  and 
laid  their  attenuated  forms  upon  them.  The  flames 
leaped  up  the  trunk,  and  burned  off  dead  boughs  so 
that  they  dropped  on  the  snow  about  them,  but  the 
unfortunates  were  too  weak  and  too  indifferent  to 
fear  the  burning  brands. 

Mr.  Eddy  now  fed  his  waning  strength  on  shreds  of 
his  concealed  bear  meat,  hoping  that  he  might  survive 
to  save  the  giver.  The  rest  in  camp  could  scarcely 
walk,  by  the  twenty-eighth,  and  their  sensations  of 
hunger  were  deminishing.  This  condition  forebode 
delirium  and  death,  unless  stayed  by  the  only  means  at 
hand.  It  was  in  very  truth  a  pitiful  alternative 
offered  to  the  sufferers. 

With  sickening  anguish  the  first  morsels  were  pre- 
pared and  given  to  Lemuel  Murphy,  but  for  him  they 
were  too  late.  Not  one  touched  flesh  of  kindred  body. 
Nor  was  there  need  of  restraining  hand,  or  warning 
voice  to  gauge  the  small  quantity  which  safety  i3re- 
scribed  to  break  the  fast  of  the  starving.  Death  would 
have  been  preferable  to  that  awful  meal,  had  relent- 
less fate  not  said:  ^*  Take,  eat  that  ye  may  live.  Eat, 
lest  ye  go  mad  and  leave  your  work  undone !  ' ' 

All  but  the  Indians  obeyed  the  mandate,  and  were 
strengthened  and  reconciled  to  prepare  the  remaining 

[82] 


''  CAMP  OF  DEATH  '' 

flesh   to   sustain  them   a   few  days  longer   on   their 
journey. 

Hitherto,  the  wanderers  had  been  guided  partly  by 
the  fitful  sun,  partly  by  Lewis  and  Salvador,  the  In- 
dians who  had  come  with  Stanton  from  Sutter's  Fort. 
In  the  morning,  however,  when  they  were  ready  to 
leave  that  spot,  which  was  thereafter  known  as  the 
^^  Camp  of  Death,''  Salvador,  who  could  speak  a  little 
English,  insisted  that  he  and  Lewis  were  lost,  and, 
therefore,  unable  to  guide  them  farther. 

Nevertheless,  the  party  at  once  set  out  and  travelled 
instinctively  until  evening.  The  following  morning 
they  wrapped  pieces  of  blanket  around  their  cracked 
and  swollen  feet  and  again  struggled  onward  until 
late  in  the  afternoon,  when  they  encamped  upon  a 
high  ridge.  There  they  saw  beyond,  in  the  distance, 
a  wide  plain  which  they  believed  to  be  the  Sacramento 
•Valley. 

This  imaginary  glimpse  of  distant  lowland  gave 
them  a  peaceful  sleep.  The  entire  day  of  December 
31  was  spent  in  crossing  a  canon,  and  every  footstep 
left  its  trace  of  blood  in  the  snow. 

When  they  next  encamped,  Mr.  Eddy  saw  that  poor 
Jay  Fosdick  was  failing,  and  he  begged  him  to  sum- 
mon up  all  his  courage  and  energy  in  order  to  reach 
the  promised  land,  now  so  near.  They  were  again 
without  f^od;  and  William  Foster,  whose  mind  had 
become  unbalanced  by  the  long  fast,  was  ready  to 
kill  Mrs.  McCutchen  or  Miss  Graves.  Mr.  Eddy  con- 
fronted and  intimidated  the  crazed  sufferer,  who  next 

[83] 

/ 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

threatened  the  Indian  guides,  and  would  have  carried 
out  his  threat  then,  had  Mr.  Eddy  not  secretly  warned 
them  against  danger  and  urged  them  to  flee.  But 
nothing  could  save  the  Indians  from  Foster's  insane 
passion  later,  when  he  found  them  on  the  trail  in  an 
unconscious  and  dying  condition. 

«Tanuary  1,  1847,  was,  to  the  little  band  of  eight, 
a  day  of  less  distressing  trials;  its  members  resumed 
travel  early,  braced  by  unswerving  will-power.  They 
stopped  at  midday  and  revived  strength  by  eating  the 
toasted  strings  of  their  snowshoes.  Mr.  Eddy  also 
ate  his  worn  out  moccasins,  and  all  felt  a  renewal  of 
hope  upon  seeing  before  them  an  easier  grade  which 
led  to  night-camp  where  the  snow  was  only  six  feet  in 
depth.  Soothed  by  a  milder  temperature,  they  re- 
sumed their  march  earlier  next  morning  and  descended 
to  where  the  snow  was  but  three  feet  deep.  There 
they  built  their  camp-fire  aftd  slightly  crisped  the 
leather  of  a  pair  of  old  boots  and  a  pair  of  shoes  which 
constituted  their  evening  meal,  and  was  the  last  of 
their  effects  available  as  food. 

An  extraordinary  effort  on  the  third  day  of  tlie  new 
year  brought  them  to  bare  ground  between  patches  of 
snow.  They  were  still  astray  among  the  western  foot- 
hills of  the  Sierras,  and  sat  by  a  fire  under  an  oak 
tree  all  night,  enduring  hunger  that  was  almost 
maddening. 

Jay  Fosdick  was  sinking  rapidly,  and  Mr.  Eddy  re- 
solved to  take  the  gun  and  steal  away  from  camp  at 
dawn.     But  his  conscience  smote  him,  and  he  finally 

[84] 


THANKFULNESS  FOR  FOOD 

gave  the  others  a  hint  of  his  intention  of  going  in 
search  of  game,  and  of  not  returning  unless  success- 
ful. Not  a  moving  creature  nor  a  creeping  thing  had 
crossed  the  trail  on  their  journey  thither;  but  the 
open  country  before  them,  and  minor  marks  well 
known  to  hunters,  had  caught  Mr.  Eddy's  eye  and 
strengthened  his  determination.  Mrs.  Pike,  in  dread 
and  fear  of  the  result,  threw  her  arms  about  Mr. 
Eddy's  neck  and  implored  him  not  to  leave  them,  and 
the  others  mingled  their  entreaties  and  protestations 
with  hers.  In  silence  he  took  his  gun  to  go  alone. 
Then  Mary  Graves  declared  that  she  would  keep  up 
with  him,  and  without  heeding  further  opposition  the 
two  set  out.  A  short  distance  from  camp  they  stop- 
ped at  a  place  where  a  deer  had  recently  lain. 

With  a  thrill  of  emotion  too  intense  for  words,  with 
a  prayer  in  his  heart  too  fervent  for  utterance,  Mr. 
Eddy  turned  his  tearful  eyes  toward  Mary  and  saw 
her  weeping  like  a  child.  A  moment  later,  that  man 
and  that  woman  who  had  once  said  that  they  knew 
not  how  to  pray,  were  kneeling  beside  that  newly 
found  track  pleading  in  broken  accents  to  the  Giver 
of  all  life,  for  a  manifestation  of  His  power  to  save 
their  starving  bancl.  Long  restrained  tears  were  still 
streaming  down  the  cheeks  of  both,'  and  soothing  their 
anxious  hearts  as  they  arose  to  go  in  pursuit  of  the 
deer.    J.  QT Thornton  says: 

They  had  not  proceeded  far  before  they  saw  a  large 
buck  about  eighty  yards  distant.  Mr.  Eddy  raised  his  rifle 
and  for  some  time  tried  to  bring  it  to  bear  upon  the  deer, 

[85] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

but.  such  was  his  extreme  weakness  that  he  could  not.  He 
breathed  a  little,  changed  his  manner  of  holding  the  gun, 
and  made  another  effort.  Again  his  weakness  prevented  him 
from  being  able  to  hold  upon  it.  He  heard  a  low,  suppressed 
sobbing  behind  him,  and,  turning  around,  saw  Mary  Graves 
weeping  and  in  great  agitation,  her  head  bowed,  and  her 
hands  upon  her  face.  Alarmed  lest  she  should  cause  the 
deer  to  run,  Mr.  Eddy  begged  her  to  be  quiet,  which  she  was, 
after  exclaiming,  *'  Oh,  I  am  afraid  you  will  not  kill  it.*' 

He  brought  the  gun  to  his  face  the  third  time,  and  ele- 
vated the  muzzle  above  the  deer,  let  it  descend  until  he  saw 
the  animal  through  the  sight,  when  the  rifle  cracked.  Mary 
immediately  wept  aloud,  exclaiming,  ' '  Oh,  merciful  God,  you 
have  missed  it!  "  Mr.  Eddy  assured  her  that  he  had  not; 
that  the  rifle  was  upon  it  the  moment  of  firing;  and  that,  in 
addition  to  this,  the  animal  had  dropped  its  tail  between 
its  legs,  which  this  animal  always  does  when  wounded. 

His  belief  was  speedily  confirmed.  The  deer  ran  a  short 
distance,  then  fell,  and  the  two  eager  watchers  hastened  to 
it  as  fast  as  their  weakened  condition  would  allow.  iSlr. 
Eddy  cut  the  throat  of  the  expiring  beast  with  his  pocket- 
knife,  and  he  and  his  companion  knelt  down  and  drank  the 
warm  blood  that  flowed  from  the  wound. 

The  excitement  of  getting  that  blessed  food,  and  the 
strength  it  imparted,  produced  a  helpful  reaction,  and 
enabled  them  to  sit  down  in  peace  to  rest  a  while,  be- 
fore attempting  to  roll  their  treasure  to  the  tree  near- 
by, where  they  built  a  fire  and  prepared  the  entrails. 

Mr.  Eddy  fired  several  shots  after  dark,  so  that  the 
others  might  know  that  he  had  not  abandoned  them. 
Meanwhile,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Foster,  Mrs.  McCutchen,  and 
Mrs.  Pike  had  moved  forward  and  made  their  camp 
half-way  between  Mr.  Eddy's  new  one  and  that  of  the 
previous  night.  Mr.  Fosdick,  however,  being  too 
weak  to  rise,  remained  at  the  first  camp.     His  devoted 

[86] 


THE  SEVEN  SURVIVORS 

wife  pillowed  his  head  upon  her  lap,  and  prayed  that 
death  would  call  them  away  together.  Mr.  Thornton 
continues : 

The  sufferer  had  heard  the  crack  of  Mr.  Eddy's  rifle  at 
the  time  he  killed  the  deer,  and  said,  feebly,  "  There!  Eddy 
has  killed  a  deer!  Now,  if  I  can  only  get  to  him  I  shall 
live!  " 

But  in  the  stillness  of  that  cold,  dark  night,  Jay 
Fosdick's  spirit  fled  alone.  His  wife  wrapped  their 
only  blanket  about  his  body,  and  lay  down  on  the 
ground  beside  him,  hoping  to  freeze  to  death.  The 
morning  dawned  bright,  the  sun  came  out,  and  the 
lone  widow  rose,  kissed  the  face  of  her  dead,  and,  with 
a  small  bundle  in  her  hand,  started  to  join  Mr.  Eddy. 
She  passed  a  hunger-crazed  man  on  the  way  from  the 
middle  camp,  going  to  hers,  and  her  heart  grew  sick, 
for  she  knew  that  her  loved  one's  body  would  not  be 
spared  for  burial  rites. 

She  found  Mr.  Eddy  drying  his  deer  meat  before  tlie 
fire,  and  later  saw  him  divide  it  so  that  each  of  his 
companions  in  the  camps  should  have  an  equal  share. 

The  seven  survivors,  each  with  his  portion  of  ven- 
ison, resumed  travel  on  the  sixth  and  continued  in  the 
foothills  a  number  of  days,  crawling  up  the  ascents, 
sliding  down  the  steeps;  often  harassed  by  fears  of 
becoming  lost  near  the  goal,  yet  unaware  that  they 
were  astray. - 

The  venison  had  been  consumed.  Hope  had  almost 
died  in  the  heart  of  the  bravest,  when  at  the  close  of 
day  on  the  tenth  of  January,  twenty-five  days  from  the 

[871 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

date  of  leaving  Donner  Lake,  they  saw  an  Indian  vil- 
lage at  the  edge  of  a  thicket  they  were  approaching. 
As  the  sufferers  staggered  forward,  the  Indians  were 
overwhelmed  at  sight  of  their  misery.  The  warriors 
gazed  in  stolid  silence.  The  squaws  wrung  their 
hands  and  wept  aloud.  The  larger  children  hid  them- 
selves, and  the  little  ones  clung  to  their  mothers  in 
fear.  The  first  sense  of  horror  having  passed,  those 
dusky  mothers  fed  the  unfortunates.  Some  brought 
them  unground  acorns  to  eat,  while  others  mixed  the 
meal  into  cakes  and  offered  them  as  fast  as  they  could 
cook  them  on  the  heated  stones.  All  except  Mr.  Eddy 
were  strengthened  by  the  food.  It  sickened  him,  and 
he  resorted  to  green  grass  boiled  in  water. 

The  following  morning  the  chief  sent  his  runners  to 
other  rancherias,  en  route  to  the  settlement,  telling  his 
people  of  the  distress  of  th^pale-faces  who  were  com- 
ing toward  them,  and  who  would  need  food.  When 
the  Forlorn  Hope  was  ready  to  move  on,  the  chief  led 
the  way,  and  an  Indian  walked  on  either  side  of  each 
sufferer  supporting  and  helping  the  unsteady  feet.  At 
each  rancheria  the  party  was  put  in  charge  of  a  new 
leader  and  fresh  supporters. 

On  the  seventeenth,  the  chief  with  much  difficulty 
procured,  for  Mr.  Eddy,  a  gill  of  pine  nuts  which  the 
latter  found  so  nutritious  that  the  following  morning, 
on  resuming  travel,  he  was  able  to  walk  without  sup- 
port. They  had  proceeded  less  than  a  mile  when  his 
companions  «ank  to  the  ground  completely  unnerved. 
They  had  suddenly  given  up  and  were  willing  to  die. 

[88] 


DESPERATE  STRUGGLE  FOR  LIFE   ' 

The  Indians  appeared  greatly  perplexed,  and  Mr. 
Eddy  shook  with  sickening  fear.  Was  his  great  effort 
to  come  to  naught?  Should  his  wife  and  babes  die 
while  he  stood  guard  over  those  who  would  no  longer 
help  themselves!  No,  he  would  push  ahead  and  see 
what  he  yet  could  do! 

The  old  chief  sent  an  Indian  with  him  as  a  guide  and 
support.  Relieved  of  the  sight  and  personal  responsi- 
bility of  his  enfeebled  companions,  Mr.  Eddy  felt  a 
renewal  of  strength  and  determination.  He  pressed 
onward,  scarcely  heeding  his  dusky  guide.  At  the  end 
of  five  miles  they  met  another  Indian,  and  Mr.  Eddy, 
now  conscious  that  his  feet  were  giving  out,  promised 
the  stranger  tobacco,  if  he  would  go  with  them  and 
help  to  lead  him  to  the  ^^  white  man's  house." 

And  so  that  long,  desperate  struggle  for  life,  and 
for  the  sake  of  loved  ones,  ended  an  hour  before  sun- 
set, when  Mr.  Eddy,  leaning  heavily  upon  the  Indians, 
halted  before  the  door  of  Colonel  M.  D.  Richey's  home, 
thirty-five  miles  from  Sutter's  Fort. 

The  first  to  meet  him  was  the  daughter  of  the  house, 
whom  he  asked  for  bread.    Thornton  says : 

She  looked  at  him,  burst  out  crying,  and  took  hold  of 
him  to  assist  him  into  the  room.  He  was  immediately  placed 
in  bed,  in  which  he  lay  unable  to  turn  his  body  during  four 
days.  In  a  very  short  time  he  had  food  brought  to  him  by 
Mrs.  Richey,  who  sobbed  as  she  fed  the  miserable  and  fright- 
ful being  before  her.  Shortly,  Harriet,  the  daughter,  had 
carried  the  news  from  house  to  house  in  the  neighborhood, 
and  horses  were  running  at  full  speed  from  place  to  place 
until  all  preparations  were  made  for  taking  relief  to  those 
whom  Mr.  Eddy  had  left  in  the  morning. 

[89] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

William  Johnson,  John  Howell,  John  Rhodes,  Mr.  Keiser, 
Mr.  Sagur,  Racine  Tucker,  and  Joseph  Varro  assembled 
at  Mr.  Richey^s  immediately.  The  females  collected  the 
bread  they  had,  with  tea,  sugar,  and  coffee,  amounting  to  as 
much  as  four  men  could  carry.  Howell,  Rhodes,  Sagur,  and 
Tucker  started  at  once,  on  foot,  with  the  Indians  as  guides, 
and  arrived  at  camp,  between  fifteen  and  eighteen  miles  dis- 
tant, at  midnight. 

Mr.  Eddy  had  warned  the  outgoing  party  against 
giving  the  sufferers  as  much  food  as  they  might  want, 
but,  on  seeing  them,  the  tender-hearted  men  could  not 
deny  their  tearful  begging  for  ^^  more.''  One  of  the 
relief  was  kept  busy  until  dawn  preparing  food  which 
the  rest  gave  to  the  enfeebled  emigrants.  This  over- 
dose of  kindness  made  its  victims  temporarily  very  ill, 
but  caused  no  lasting  harm. 

Early  on  the  morning  of  January  18,  Messrs. 
Richey,  Johnson,  Varro,  and  Keiser,  equipped  with 
horses  and  other  necessaries^hurried  away  to  bring  in 
the  refugees,  together  with  their  comrades  who  had 
gone  on  before.  By  ten  o'clock  that  night  the  whole 
of  the  Forlorn  Hope  were  safe  in  the  homes  of  their 
benefactors.  Mr.  Richey  declared  that  he  and  his 
party  had  retraced  Mr.  Eddy's  track  six  miles,  by  the 
blood  from  his  feet;  and  that  they  could  not  have  be- 
lieved that  he  had  travelled  that  eighteen  miles,  if  they 
themselves  had  not  passed  over  the  ground  in  going 
to  his  discouraged  companions. 


[90] 


CHAPTER  X 

RELIEF  MEASURES  INAUGURATED  IN  CALIFORNIA DIS- 
TURBED CONDITIONS  BECAUSE  OF  MEXICAN  WAR GEN- 
EROUS     SUBSCRIPTIONS THREE      PARTIES      ORGANIZE 

^^  FIRST  RELIEF,"  UNDER  RACINE  TUCKER;  *^  SECOND  RE- 
LIEF,'' UNDER  REED  AND  GREENWOOD;  AND  RELAY  CAMP 
UNDER  WOODWORTH FIRST  RELIEF  PARTY  CROSSES  SNOW- 
BELT  AND  REACHES  DONNER  LAKE. 

fTlHE  kindness  and  sympathy  shown  Mr.  Eddy  by 
-1.  the  good  people  in  the  neighborhood  of  the 
•Richey  and  Johnson  ranches  encouraged  his  efforts  in 
behalf  of  his  fellow-sufferers  in  the  mountains.  While 
the  early  sunlight  of  January  19  was  flooding  his  room 
with  cheer  and  warmth,  he  dictated  a  letter  to  Mr. 
John  Sinclair,  Alcalde  of  the  Upper  District  of  Cali- 
fornia, living  near  Sutter's  Fort,  in  which  he  stated 
as  briefly  as  possible  the  conditions  and  perils  sur- 
rounding the  snow-bound  travellers,  and  begged  him 
to  use  every  means  in  his  power  toward  their  im- 
mediate rescue. 

Bear  River  was  running  high,  and  the  plain  between 
it  and  Sutter's  Fort  seemed  a  vast  quagmire,  but  John 
Rhodes  volunteered  to  deliver  the  letter.  He  was 
ferried  over  the  river  on  a  raft  formed  of  two  logs 
lashed   together   with   strips   of   rawhide.     Then   he 

[91] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

rolled  his  trousers  above  the  knee  and  with  his  shoes 
in  his  hand,  started  on  his  mission.  He  saw  no  white 
faces  until  he  reached  Sinclair's,  where  the  letter 
created  a  painful  interest  and  won  ready  promises  of 
help. 

It  was  dark  when  he  reached  Sutter's  Fort,  never- 
theless from  house  to  house  he  spread  the  startling 
report:  "■  Men,  women,  and  little  children  are  snow- 
bound in  the  Sierras,  and  starving  to  death !  ' ' 

Captain  Kerns  in  charge  at  the  Fort,  pledged  his  aid, 
and  influence  to  the  cause  of  relief.  Captain  Sutter, 
who  had  already  twice  sent  supplies,  first  by  Stanton 
and  again  by  McCutchen  and  Reed,  in  their  unsuccess- 
ful attempt  to  cross  the  mountains,  at  once  agreed  to 
cooperate  with  Alcalde  Sinclair. 

While  Captain  Kerns  at  Sutter's  Fort  was  sending 
messengers  to  different  pointy  and  Mrs.  Sinclair  was 
collecting  clothing  to  replace  the  tattered  garments  of 
the  members  of  the  Forlorn  Hope,  her  husband 
despatched  an  open  letter  to  the  people  of  San  Fran- 
cisco, describing  the  arrival  of  the  survivors  of  the 
Forlorn  Hope,  and  the  heart-rending  condition 
of  those  remaining  in  the  mountains.  He  urged  im- 
mediate action,  and  offered  his  services  for  individual 
work,  or  to  cooperate  with  Government  relief,  or  any 
parties  that  might  be  preparing  to  go  out  with  Messrs. 
Reed  and  McCutchen,  who  were  known  to  be  endeav- 
oring to  raise  a  second  expedition. 

The  letter  was  taken  to  the  City  Hotel  in  San  Fran- 
cisco, and  read  aloud  in  the  dining-room.    Its  contents 

[92] 


DISTURBED  CONDITION  IN  CALIFORNIA 

aroused  all  the  tender  emotions  known  to  human  na- 
ture. Some  of  the  listeners  had  parted  from  members 
of  the  Donner  Party  at  the  Little  Sandy,  when  its 
prospects  appeared  so  bright,  and  the  misfortunes 
which  had  since  befallen  the  party  seemed  incredible. 
Women  left  the  room  sobbing,  and  men  called  those 
passing,  in  from  the  street,  to  join  the  knots  of  earnest 
talkers.  All  were  ready  and  willing  to  do;  but,  alas, 
the  obstacles  which  had  prevented  Mr.  Reed  getting 
men  for  the  mountain  work  still  remained  to  be 
overcome. 

Existing  war  between  Mexico  and  the  United  States 
was  keeping  California  in  a  disturbed  condition.  Most 
of  the  able-bodied  male  emigrants  had  enlisted  under 
Captain  Fremont  as  soon  as  they  reached  the  country, 
and  were  still  on  duty  in  the  southern  part  of  the  prov- 
ince; and  the  non-enlisted  were  deemed  necessary  for 
the  protection  of  the  colonies  of  American  women  and 
children  encamped  on  the  soil  of  the  enemy.  More- 
over, all  felt  that  each  man  who  should  attempt  to 
cross  the  snow  belt  would  do  so  at  the  peril  of  his  life. 

Mr.  Reed,  who  in  the  late  Autumn  had  sent  petitions 
to  the  Military  Governor  and  to  Lieutenant  Washing- 
ton A.  Bartlett  of  the  United  States  Navy,  Alcalde  of 
the  town  and  district  of  San  Francisco,  but  as  yet  had 
obtained  nothing,  now  appeared  before  each  in  person, 
and  was  p^-omised  assistance.  Captain  Mervine  of  the 
United  States  Navy,  and  Mr.  Richardson,  United 
States  Collector,  each  subscribed  fifty  dollars  to  the 
cause  on  his  own  account. 

[93] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

As  a  result  of  these  appeals,  Alcalde  Bartlett  called 
a  public  meeting;  and  so  intense  was  the  feeling  that 
Mr.  Dunleary,  **  the  first  speaker,  had  scarcely  taken 
his  seat  on  the  platform,  when  the  people  rushed  to 
the  chairman's  table  from  all  parts  of  the  house  with 
their  hands  full  of  silver  dollars,''  and  could  hardly 
be  induced  to  stay  their  generosity  until  the  meeting- 
was  organized. 

A  treasurer  and  two  committees  were  appointed; 
the  one  to  solicit  subscriptions,  and  the  other  to  pur- 
chase supplies.  The  Alcalde  was  requested  to  act  witli 
both  committees.  Seven  hundred  dollars  was  sub- 
scribed before  the  meeting  adjourned.  Seven  hundred 
dollars,  in  an  isolated  Spanish  province,  among  newly 
arrived  immigrants,  was  a  princely  sum  to  gather. 

Messrs.  Ward  and  Smith,  in  addition  to  a  generous 
subscription,  offered  their  launch  Bice  mi  Nana, 
to  transport  the  expedition  to  Feather  River,  and  Mr. 
John  Fuller  volunteered  to  pilot  the  launch. 

It  was  decided  to  fit  out  an  expedition,  under  charge 
of  Past  Midshipman  Woodworth,  who  had  tendered 
his  services  for  the  purpose,  he  to  act  under  instruc- 
tions of  the  Military  Governor  and  cooperate  with  the 
committee  aiding  Reed. 

Soon  thereafter  ^^  Old  Trapper  Greenwood  "  ap- 
peared in  San  Francisco,  asking  for  assistance  in  fit- 
ting out  a  following  to  go  to  the  mountains  with 
himself  and  McCutchen,  Mr.  George  Yount  and  others 
in  and  around  Sonoma  and  Napa  having  recommended 
him  as  leader.    Donations  of  horses,  mules,  beef,  and 

[94]      • 


CROSSING  THE  SIERRAS 

flour  had  alread}^  been  sent  to  his  camp  in  Napa  Val- 
ley, Furthermore,  Lieut.  William  L.  Maury,  U.  S.  N., 
Commander  at  the  port;  Don  Mariano  G.  Vallejo,  Ex- 
Commandante-General  of  California;  Mr.  George 
Yount,  and  others  subscribed  the  sum  of  five  hundred 
dollars  in  specie  toward  outfitting  Greenwood  and  the 
men  he  should  select  to  cross  the  mountains. 

Greenwood  urged  that  he  should  have  ten  or  twelve 
men  on  whom  he  could  rely  after  reaching  deep  snow. 
These,  he  said,  he  could  secure  if  he  had  the  ready 
money  to  make  advances  and  to  procure  the  necessary 
warm  clothing  and  blankets.  He  had  crossed  the  Si- 
erras before,  when  the  snow  lay  deep  on  the  summit, 
and  now  proposed  to  drive  over  horses  and  kill  them 
at  the  camps  as  provisions  for  the  sufferers.  If  this 
scheme  should  fail,  he  and  his  sons  with  others 
would  get  food  to  the  camp  on  snowshoes.  Thornton 
says :  .  * 

The  Governor-General  of  California,  after  due  form, 
and  trusting  to  the  generosity  and  humanity  of  the  Govern- 
ment which  he  represented,  appropriated  four  hundred  dol- 
lars on  Government  account  toward  outfitting  this  relief 
party.  Furthermore,  in  compliance  with  an  application  from 
Alcalde  Bartlett  (for  the  committee).  Captain  Mervine,  of 
the  U.  S.  frigate  Savannah,  furnished  from  the  ship's  stores 
ten  days'  full  rations  for  ten  men.  The  crews  of  the  Savan- 
nah and  the  sloop  Warren,  and  the  marines  in  garrison 
at  San  Francisco,  increased  the  relief  fund  to  thirteen 
hundred  dollars.  Messrs.  Melius  and  Howard  tendered  their 
launch  to  ca^fry  the  party  up  the  bay  to  Sonoma,  and  Cap- 
tain Sutter  proffered  his  launch  Sacramento  for  river  use. 

It  was  now  settled  that  the  "  Reed-Greenwood  party  " 
should  go  to  Johnson's  ranch  by  way  of  Sonoma  and  Napa, 
and  WoOdworth  with  his  men  and  supplies,  including  cloth- 

[95] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PAETY 

ing.  for  the  destitute,  should  go  by  boat  to  Sutter 's  Landing ; 
there  procure  pack  animals,  buy  beef  cattle,  and  hurry  on 
to  the  snow-belt;  establish  a  relay  camp,  slaughter  the  cattle, 
and  render  all  possible  aid  toward  the  immediate  rescue  of 
the  snow-bound. 

Meanwhile,  before  Alcalde  Sinclair's  letter  had  time 
to  reach  San  Francisco,  he  and  Captain  Sutter  began 
outfitting  the  men  destined  to  become  the  ^^  First  Re- 
lief." Aguilla  Glover  and  R.  S.  Moutrey  volunteered 
their  services,  declaring  their  willingness  to  undertake 
the  hazardous  journey  for  the  sake  of  the  lives  they 
might  save. 

To  hasten  recruits  for  service,  Captain  Sutter  and 
Alcalde  Sinclair  promised  that  in  case  the  Govern- 
ment should  fail  to  grant  the  sum,  they  themselves 
would  become  responsible  for  the  payment  of  three 
dollars  per  day  to  each  man  who  would  get  food 
through  to  the  snow-bound  camps.  Accordingly, 
Aguilla  Glover  and  R.  S.  Moutrey,  driving  pack  ani- 
mals well  laden  with  warm  clothing,  blankets,  and  food 
supplies,  left  the  Fort  at  sunrise  on  the  morning  of 
February  the  first,  and  on  the  third  reached  Johnson's 
ranch,  where  they  joined  Messrs.  Tucker,  Johnson, 
Richey  and  others,  who,  being  anxious  to  assist  in  the 
good  work,  had  killed,  and  were  fire-drying,  beef  to 
take  up  the  mountains.  Here  two  days  were  spent 
making  pack-saddles,  driving  in  horses,  and  getting 
supplies  in  shape.  Indians  were  kept  at  the  handmill 
grinding  wheat.  Part  of  the  flour  was  sacked,  and  part 
converted  into  bread  by  the  women  in  the  vicinity. 

On  the  morning  of  the  fifth  of  February,  Alcalde 

r96i 


''  THE  FIRST  RELIEF  PARTY  " 

Sinclair  rode  to  Johnson's  ranch,  and  all  things  being- 
ready,  he  appointed  Racine  Tucker  Captain  of  the 
company,  and  in  touching  words  commended  the  heroic 
work  of  its  members,  and  bade  them  godspeed  on  their 
errand  of  mercy.  When  ready  to  mount,  he  shook 
hands  with  each  man,  and  recorded  the  names  in  a 
note-book  as  follows: 

Racme  Tucker,  Aguilla  Glover,  R.  S.  Moutrey,  John 
Rhodes,  Daniel  Rhodes,  Edward  Coffemeir,  D.  Richey,  James 
Curtis,  William  Eddy,*  William  Coon,  George  Tucker, 
Adolph  Brenheim,  and  John  Foster.* 

This  party  is  generally  known  as  the  ^^  First  Re- 
lief.'' Their  route  to  the  snow-belt  lay  through  sec- 
tions of  country  which  had  become  so  soft  and  oozy 
that  the  horses  often  sank  in  mire,  flank  deep ;  and  the 
streams  were  so  swollen  that  progress  was  alarmingly 
slow.  On  the  second  day  they  were  driven  into  camp 
early  by  heavy  rains  which  drenched  clothing,  blan- 
kets, and  even  the  provisions  carefully  stored  under 
the  saddles  and  leather  saddle-covers.  This  caused  a 
delay  of  thirty-six  hours,  for  everything  had  to  be 
sun  or  fire  dried  before  the  party  could  resume  travel. 

Upon  reaching  Mule  Springs,  the  party  found  tlie 
snow  from  three  to  four,  feet  deep,  and,  contrary  to 
expectations,  saw  that  it  would  be  impossible  to  pro- 
ceed farther  with  the  horses.  Mr.  Eddy  was  now  ill 
of  fever, -and  unfit  to  continue  the  climb;  whereupon 
his  companions  promised  to  bring  out  his  loved  ones 
if  he  would  return  with  Joe  Varro,  whom  Mr.  Johnson 

*0f  the  Forlorn  Hope. 

[97] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OP  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

had  sent  along  to  bring  the  pack  animals  home  after 
they  should  cease  to  be  of  use. 

At  Mule  Springs,  the  party  built  a  brush  storehouse 
for  the  extra  supplies  and  appointed  George  Tucker 
and  William  Coon  camp-keepers.  Then  they  prepared 
packs  containing  jerked  beef,  flour,  and  bread,  each 
weighing  between  forty  and  seventy-five  pounds,  ac- 
cording to  the  temperament  and  strength  of  the  re- 
spective carriers.  The  following  morning  ten  men 
started  on  their  toilsome  march  to  Bear  Valley,  where 
they  arrived  on  the  thirteenth,  and  at  once  began 
searching  for  the  abandoned  wagon  and  provisions 
which  Reed  and  McCutchen  had  cached  the  previous 
Autumn,  after  their  fruitless  attempt  to  scale  the 
mountains.  The  wagon  was  found  under  snow  ten 
feet  in  depth;  but  its  supplies  had  been  destroyed  by 
wild  beasts.  Warned  by  this  catastrophe,  the  First 
Relief  decided  to  preserve  its  Supplies  for  the  return 
trip  by  hanging  them  in  parcels  from  ropes  tied  to  the 
boughs  of  trees. 

The  ten  kept  together  courageously  until  the  fif- 
teenth; then  Mr.  M.  D.  Richey,  James  Curtis,  and 
Adolph  Brenheim  gave  up  and  turned  back.  Mr. 
Tucker,  fearing  that  others  might  become  disheartened 
and  do  likewise,  guaranteed  each  man  who  would  per- 
severe to  the  end,  five  dollars  per  diem,  dating  from 
the  time  the  party  entered  the  snow.  The  remaining 
seven  pushed  ahead,  and  on  the  eighteenth,  encamped 
on  the  summit  overlooking' the  lake,  where  the  snow 
was  said  to  be  forty  feet  in  depth. 

r  98 1 


i 


AFFECTED  BY  ALTITUDE 

The  following  morning  Aguilia  Glover  and  Daniel 
Rhodes  were  so  oppressed  by  the  altitude  that  their 
companions  had  to  relieve  them  of  their  packs  and 
help  them  on  to  the  cabins,  which,  as  chronicled  in  a 
previous  chapter,  the  party  reached  on  the  nineteenth 
of  February,  1847. 


[99 


CHAPTER  XI 

WATCHING    FOR    THE    SECOND    RELIEF    PARTY **  OLD    NAV- 
AJO ^' LAST   FOOD   IN    CAMP. 

AFTER  the  departure  of  the  First  Relief  we  who 
were  left  in  the  mountains  began  to  watch  and 
pray  for  the  coming  of  the  Second  Relief,  as  we  had 
before  watched  and  prayed  for  the  coming  of  the 
First. 

Sixteen-year-old  John  Baptiste  was  disappointed 
and  in  ill  humor  when  Messrs.  Tucker  and  Rhodes  in- 
sisted thiat  he,  being  the  only  able-bodied  man  in  the 
Donner  camp,  should  stay  and  cut  wood  for  the  en- 
feebled, until  the  arrival  of  oflier  rescuers.  The  little 
half-breed  was  a  sturdy  fellow,  but  he  was  starving 
too,  and  thought  that  he  should  be  allowed  to  save 
himself. 

After  he  had  had  a  talk  with  father,  however,  and 
the  first  company  of  refugees  had  gone,  he  became 
reconciled  to  his  lot,  and  served  us  faithfully.  He 
would  take  us  little  ones  up  to  exercise  upon  the  snow, 
saying  that  we  should  learn  to  keep  our  feet  on  the 
slick,  frozen  surface,  as  well  as  to  wade  through  slush 
and  loose  drifts. 

Frequently,  when  at  work  and  lonesome,  he  would 
call  Georgia  and  me  up  to  keep  him  company,  and  when 

[100] 


BEAR  TRACKS  IN  CAMP 

the  weather  was  frosty,  he  would  bring  ^'  Old  Nav- 
ajo," his  long  Indian  blanket,  and  roll  her  in  it  from 
one  end,  and  me  from  the  other,  until  we  would  come 
together  in  the  middle,  like  the  folds  of  a  paper  of 
pins,  with  a  face  peeping  above  each  fold.  Then  he 
would  set  us  upon  the  stump  of  the  pine  tree  while  he 
chopped  the  trunk  and  boughs  for  fuel.  He  told  us 
that  he  had  promised  father  to  stay  until  we  children 
should  be  taken  from  camp,  also  that  his  home  was  to 
be  with  our  family  forever.  One  of  his  amusements 
was  to  rake  the  coals  together  nights,  then  cover  them 
with  ashes,  and  put  the  large  camp  kettle  over  the  pile 
for  a  drum,  so  that  we  could  spread  our  hands  around 
it,  **  to  get  just  a  little  warm  before  going  to  bed.'^ 

For  the  time,  he  lived  at  Aunt  Betsy 's  tent,  because 
Solomon  Hook  was  snow-blind  and  demented,  and  at 
times  restless  and  difficult  to  control.  The  poor  boy, 
some  weeks  earlier,  had  set  out  alone  to  reach  the  set- 
tlement, and  after  an  absence  of  forty-eight  hours  was 
found  close  to  camp,  blind,  and  with  his  mind  unbal- 
anced. He,  like  other  wanderers  on  that  desolate 
waste,  had  become  bewildered,  and,  unconsciously, 
circled  back  near  to  the  starting-point. 

Aunt  Betsy  came  often  to  our  tent,  and  mother  fre- 
quently went  to  hers,  and  they  knelt  together  and 
asked  for  strength  to  bear  their  burdens.  Once,  when 
mother  came  back,  she  reported  to  father  that  she  had 
discovered  bear  tracks  quite  close  to  camp,  and  was 
solicitous  that  the  beast  be  secured,  as  its  flesh  might 
sustain  us  until  rescued. 

[101] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

As  father  grew  weaker,  we  children  spent  more  time 
upon  the  snow  above  camp.  Often,  after  his  wound 
was  dressed  and  he  fell  into  a  quiet  slumber,  our  ever- 
busy,  thoughtful  mother  would  come  to  us  and  sit  on 
the  tree  trunk.  Sometimes  she  brought  paper  and 
wrote;  sometimes  she  sketched  the  mountains  and  the 
tall  tree-tops,  which  now  looked  like  small  trees  grow- 
ing up  through  the  snow.  And  often,  while  knitting  or 
sewing,  she  held  us  spell-bound  with  wondrous  tales  of 
^^  Joseph  in  Egypt,''  of  **  Daniel  m  the  den  of  lions," 
of  *^  Elijah  healing  the  widow's  son,"  of  dear  little 
Samuel,  who  said,  ''  Speak  Lord,  for  Thy  servant 
heareth,"  and  of  the  tender,  loving  Master,  who  took 
young  children  in  his  arms  and  blessed  them. 

With  me  sitting  on  her  lap,  and  Frances  and  Georgia 
at  either  side,  she  referred  to  father's  illness  and 
lonely  condition,  and  said  that  when  the  next  "  Re- 
lief ' '  came,  we  little  ones  might  be  taken  to  the  settle- 
ment, without  either  parent,  but,  God  willing,  both 
would  follow  later.  Who  could  be  braver  or  tenderer 
than  she,  as  she  prepared  us  to  go  forth  with  strangers 
and  live  without  her?  While  she,  without  medicine, 
without  lights,  would  remain  and  care  for  our  suffer- 
ing father,  in  hunger  and  in  cold,  and  without  her  little 
girls  to  kiss  good-morning  and  good-night.  She 
taught  us  how  to  gain  friends  among  those  whom  we 
should  meet,  and  what  to  answer  when  asked  whose 
children  we  were. 

Often  her  eyes  gazed  wistfully  to  westward,  where 
sky  and  mountains  seemed  to  meet,  and  she  told  us 

r  102  1 


PRECIOUS  STORE  OF  FOOD 

that  beyond  those  snowy  peaks  lay  California,  our 
land  of  food  and  safety,  our  promised  land  of  happi- 
ness, where  God  would  care  for  us.  Oh,  it  was  pain- 
fully quiet  some  days  in  those  great  mountains,  and 
lonesome  upon  the  snow.  The  pines  had  a  whispering 
homesick  murmur,  and  we  children  had  lost  all  inclina- 
tion to  play. 

The  last  food  which  I  remember  seeing  in  our  camp 
before  the  arrival  of  the  Second  Relief  was  a  thin 
mould  of  tallow,  which  mother  had  tried  out  of  the 
trimmings  of  the  jerked  beef  brought  us  by  the  First 
Relief.  She  had  let  it  harden  in  a  pan,  and  after  all 
other  rations  had  given  out,  she  cut  daily  from  it  three 
small  white  squares  for  each  of  us,  and  we  nibbled  off 
the  four  comers  very  slowly,  and  then  around  and 
around  the  edges  of  the  precious  pieces  until  they  be- 
came too  small  for  us  to  hold  between  our  fingers. 


[103] 


CHAPTER  XII 

BELIEF,  OR  REED-G] 

FEW    SURVIVORS    STRONG    ENOUGH    TO    TRAVEL WIFE 's 

CHOICE PARTINGS    AT    DONNER    CAMP MY    TWO    SIS- 
TERS   AND   I    DESERTED DEPARTURE    OF    SECOND    RELIEF 

PARTY. 

IT  was  the  first  of  March,  about  ten  days  after  the 
arrival  of  the  First  Relief,  before  James  Reed  and 
William  McCutchen  succeeded  in  reaching  the  party 
they  had  left  long  months  before.  They,  together  with 
Brit  Greenwood,  Hiram  Miller,  Joseph  Jondro, 
Charles  Stone,  John  Turner,  Matthew  Dofar,  Charles 
Cady,  and  Nicholas  Clark  Constituted  the  Second 
Relief. 

They  reported  having  met  the  First  Relief  with 
eighteen  refugees  at  the  head  of  Bear  Valley,  three 
having  died  en  route  from  the  cabins.  Among  the  sur- 
vivors Mr.  Reed  found  his  wife,  his  daughter  Virginia, 
and  his  son  James  F.  Reed,  Jr.  He  learned  there  from 
his  anxious  wife  that  their  two  younger  children,  Mar- 
tha J.  and  Thomas  K.  Reed,  had  also  left  the  cabin 
with  her,  but  had  soon  given  out  and  been  carried  back 
and  left  at  the  mountain  camp  by  Messrs.  Glover  and 
Moutrey,  who  then  retraced  their  steps  and  rejoined 
the  party. 

[1041 


REED-GREENWOOD  PARTY 

Consequently  this  Reed-Greenwood  party,  realizing 
that  this  was  no  time  for  tarrying,  had  hurried  on  to 
the  lake  cabins,  where  Mr.  Reed  had  the  happiness  of 
finding  his  children  still  alive.  There  he  and  ^ve  com- 
panions encamped  upon  the  snow  and  fed  and  soothed 
the  unfortunates.  Two  members  continued  on  to  Aunt 
Betsy's  abode,  and  Messrs.  Cady  and  Clark  came  to 
ours. 

This  Relief  had  followed  the  example  of  its  prede- 
cessor in  leaving  supplies  at  marked  caches  along  the 
trail  for  the  return  trip.  Therefore,  it  reached  camp 
with  a  frugal  amount  for  distribution.  The  first  ra- 
tions were  doled  out  with  careful  hand,  lest  harm 
should  come  to  the  famishing  through  overeating,  still, 
the  rescuers  administered  sufficient  to  satisfy  the  fierc- 
est cravings  and  to  give  strength  for  the  prospective 
journey. 

While  crossing  Alder  Creek  Valley  to  our  tent  that 
first  afternoon,  Messrs.  Cady  and  Clark  had  seen  fresh 
tracks  of  a  bear  and  cubs,  and  in  the  evening  the  latr 
ter  took  one  of  our  guns  and  went  in  pursuit  of  the 
game  which  would  have  been  a  godsend  to  us.  It  was 
dark  when  he  returned  and  told  my  mother  that  he  had 
wounded  the  old  bear  near  the  camp,  but  that  she 
had  .escaped  with  her  young  through  the  pines  into  a 
clump  of  tamarack,  and  that  he  would  be  able  to  fol- 
low her  in  tTie  morning  by  the  blood-stains  on  the  snow. 

Meanwhile,  the  two  men  who  had  come  to  Aunt  Bet- 
sy's with  food  thought  it  best  not  to  tell  her  that  her 
son  William  had  died  en  route  to  the  settlement  with 

rio5i   . 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

the  First  Relief.  They  selected  from  among  her  chil- 
dren in  camp,  Solomon,  Mary,  and  Isaac,  as  able  to 
follow  a  leader  to  the  lake  cabins,  and  thence  to  go 
with  the  outgoing  Second  Relief,  across  the  mountains. 
Hopefully,  that  mother  kissed  her  three  children  good- 
bye, and  then  wistfully  watched  them  depart  with  their 
rescuers  on  snowshoes.  She  herself  was  strong 
enough  to  make  the  journey,  but  remained  because 
there  was  no  one  to  help  to  carry  out  her  two  young- 
est children. 

Thirty-one  of  the  company  were  still  in  the  camps 
when  this  party  arrived,  nearly  all  of  them  children, 
unable  to  travel  without  assistance,  and  the  adults 
were  too  feeble  to  give  much  aid  to  the  little  ones 
upon  the  snow.  Consequently,  when  my  father  learned 
that  the  Second  Relief  comprised  only  ten  men,  he 
felt  that  he  himself  would  nev^r  reach  the  settlement. 
He  was  willing  to  be  left  alone,  and  entreated  mother 
to  leave  him  and  try  to  save  herself  and  us  children. 
He  reminded  her  that  his  life  was  almost  spent,  that 
she  could  do  little  for  him  were  she  to  remain,  and 
that  in  caring  for  us  children  she  would  be  carrying 
on  his  work. 

She  who  had  to  choose  between  the  sacred  duties  of 
wife  and  mother,  thought  not  of  self.  She  looked  first 
at  her  helpless  little  children,  then  into  the  face  of  her 
suffering  and  helpless  husband,  and  tenderly,  unhes- 
itatingly, announced  her  determination  to  remain  and 
care  for  him  until  both  should  be  rescued,  or  death 
should  part  them. 

[106] 


PEEPARATION  FOR  JOURNEY 

Perplexities  and  heartaches  multiplied  with  the 
morning  hours  of  the  following  day.  Mr.  Clark,  being 
anxious  to  provide  more  food,  started  early  to  hunt 
the  wounded  bear.  He  had  not  been  gone  long,  when 
Mr.  Stone  arrived  from  the  lake  cabins  and  told  Mr. 
Cady  that  the  other  members  of  the  Relief  had  be- 
come alarmed  at  gathering  storm  clouds,  and  had  re- 
solved to  select  at  once  the  ablest  among  the  emigrants 
and  hasten  with  them  across  the  summit,  and  to  leave 
Clark,  Cady,  and  himself  to  cut  the  necessary  fuel  for 
the  camps,  and  otherwise  assist  the  sufferers  until  the 
Third  Relief  should  reach  them. 

Cady  and  Stone,  without  waiting  to  inform  Clark, 
promptly  decided  upon  their  course  of  action.  They 
knew  the  scarcity  of  provisions  in  camp,  the  condition 
of  the  trail  over  the  mountains,  the  probability  of 
long,  fierce  March  storms,  and  other  obstacles  which 
might  delay  future  promised  relief,  and,  terror- 
stricken,  determined  to  rejoin  their  party,  regardless 
of  opposition,  and  return  to  the  settlement. 

Mother,  fearing  that  we  children  might  not  survive 
another  storm  in  camp,  begged  Messrs.  Cady  and 
Stone  to  take  us  with  them,  offering  them  five  hundred 
dollars  in  coin,  to  deliver  us  to  Elitha  and  Leanna  at 
Sutter's  Fort.  The  agreement  was  made,  and  she  col- 
lected a  few  keepsakes  and  other  light  articles,  which 
she  wished-QS  to  have,  and  which  the  men  seemed  more 
than  willing  to  carry  out  of  the  mountains.  Then,  lov- 
ingly, she  combed  our  hair  and  helped  us  to  dress 
quickly  for  the  journey.    When  we  were  ready,  except 

[107] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

cloak  and  hood,  she  led  ns  to  the  bedside,  and  we  took 
leave  of  father.  The  men  helped  ns  up  the  steps  and 
stood  ns  up  on  the  snow.  She  came,  put  on  our  cloaks 
and  hoods,  saying,  as  if  talking  to  herself,  ^*  I  may 
never  see  you  again,  but  God  will  take  care  of  you. ' ' 

Frances  was  six  years  and  eight  months  old  and 
could  trudge  along  quite  bravely,  but  Georgia,  who 
was  little  more  than  five,  and  I,  lacking  a  week  of  four 
years,  could  not  do  well  on  the  heavy  trail,  and  we 
were  soon  taken  up  and  carried.  After  travelling 
some  distance,  the  men  left  us  sitting  on  a  blanket 
upon  the  snow,  and  went  ahead  a  short  distance  where 
they  stopped  and  talked  earnestly  with  many  gesticula- 
tions. We  watched  them,  trembling  lest  they  leave  us 
there  to  freeze.     Then  Frances  said, 

**  Don't  feel  afraid.  If  they  go  otf  and  leave  us,  I 
can  lead  you  back  to  mother  by  our  foot  tracks  on  the 
snow.'' 

After  a  seemingly  long  time,  they  returned,  picked 
us  up  and  took  us  on  to  one  of  the  lake  cabins,  where 
without  a  parting  word,  they  left  us. 

The  Second  Relief  Party,  of  which  these  men  were 
members,  left  camp  on  the  third  of  March.  They  took 
with  them  seventeen  refugees  —  the  Breen  and  Graves 
families,  Solomon  Hook,  Isaac  and  Mary  Donner,  and 
Martha  and  Thomas,  Mr.  Reed 's  two  youngest 
(children. 


[108 


CHAPTER  XIII 

A  FATEFUL  CABIN MES.    MURPHY  GIVES  MOTHERLY  COM- 
FORT   THE  GREAT  STORM HALF  A  BISCUIT ARRIVAL 

OF  THIRD  RELIEF *  *  WHERE  IS  MY  BOY  !  ' ' 

HOW  can  I  describe  that  fateful  cabin,  which  was 
dark  as  night  to  us  who  had  come  in  from  the 
glare  of  day  1  We  heard  no  word  of  greeting  and  met 
no  sign  of  welcome,  but  were  given  a  dreary  resting- 
place  near  the  foot  of  the  steps,  just  inside  the  open 
doorway,  with  a  bed  of  branches  to  lie  upon,  and  a 
blanket  to  cover  us.  After  we  had  been  there  a  short 
time,  we  could  distinguish  persons  on  other  beds  of 
branches,  and  a  man  with  bushy  hair  reclining  beside 
a  smouldering  fire. 

Soon  a  child  began  to  cry,  '^  Give  me  some  bread. 
Oh,  give  me  some  meat!  " 

Then  another  took  up  the  same  pitiful  wail.  It  con- 
tinued so  long  that  I  wept  in  sympathy,  and  fastened 
my  arms  tightly  around  my  sister  Frances'  neck  and 
hid  my  eyes  against  her  shoulder.  Still  I  heard  that 
hungry  cry,  until  a  husky  voice  shouted, 

*  *  Be  quiet,  you  crying  children,  or  I  '11  shoot  you. ' ' 

But  the  silence  was  again  and  again  broken  by  that 
heart-rending  plea,  and  again  and  again  were  the 
voices  hushed  by  the  same  terrifying  threat.     And  we 

r  109  1 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

three,  fresh  from  our  loving  mother's  embrace,  be- 
lieved the  awful  menace  no  vain  threat. 

We  were  cold,  and  too  frightened  to  feel  hungry, 
nor  were  we  offered  food  that  night,  but  next  morn- 
ing Mr.  Reed 's  little  daughter  Mattie  appeared  carry- 
ing in  her  apron  a  number  of  newly  baked  biscuits 
which  her  father  had  just  taken  from  the  hot  ashes  of 
his  camp  fire.  Joyfully  she  handed  one  to  each  in- 
mate of  the  cabin,  then  departed  to  join  those  ready 
to  set  forth  on  the  journey  to  the  settlement.  Few  can 
know  how  delicious  those  biscuits  tasted,  and  how 
carefully  we  caught  each  dropping  crumb.  The  place 
seemed  drearier  after  their  giver  left  us,  yet  we  were 
glad  that  her  father  was  taking  her  to  her  mother  in 
California. 

Soon  the  great  storm  which  had  been  lowering  broke 
upon  us.  We  were  not  exposed  to  its  fury  as  were 
those  who  had  just  gone  from  us,  but  we  knew  when  it 
came,  for  snow  drifted  down  upon  our  bed  and  had  to 
be  scraped  off  before  we  could  rise.  We  were  not  al- 
lowed near  the  fire  and  spent  most  of  our  time  on  our 
bed  of  branches. 

Dear,  kind  Mrs.  Murphy,  who  for  months  had  taken 
care  of  her  own  son  Simon,  and  her  grandson  George 
Foster,  and  little  James  Eddy,  gave  us  a  share  of  her 
motherly  attention,  and  tried  to  feed  and  comfort  us. 
Affliction  and  famine,  however,  had  well  nigh  sapped 
her  strength  and  by  the  time  those  plaintive  voices 
ceased  to  cry  for  bread  and  meat,  her  willing  hands 
were  too  weakened  to  do  much  for  us. 

[110] 


FRIGHTENED  CHILDREN 

I  remember  being  awakened  while  there  by  two  little 
arms  clasped  suddenly  and  tightly  about  me,  and  I 
heard  Frances  say, 

**  No,  she  shall  not  go  with  you.  You  want  to  kill 
her!  '' 

Near  us  stood  Keseberg,  the  man  with  the  bushy 
hair.  In  limping  past  our  sleeping  place,  he  had 
stopped  and  said  something  about  taking  me  away 
with  him,  which  so  frightened  my  sisters  that  they  be- 
lieved my  life  in  danger,  and  would  not  let  me  move 
beyond  their  reach  while  we  remained  in  that  dun- 
geon. We  spoke  in  whispers,  suffered  as  much  as  the 
starving  children  in  Joseph's  time,  and  were  more 
afraid  than  Daniel  in  the  den  of  lions. 

How  long  the  storm  had  lasted,  we  did  not  know,  nor 
how  many  days  we  had  been  there.  We  were  forlorn 
as  children  can  possibly  be,  when  Simon  Murphy,  who 
was  older  than  Frances,  climbed  to  his  usual  ^*  look 
out  ^'  on  the  snow  above  the  cabin  to  see  if  any  help 
were  coming.  He  returned  to  us,  stammering  in  his 
eagerness : 

'  ^  I  seen  —  a  woman  —  on  snow  shoes  —  coming 
from  the  other  camp!  She  's  a  little  woman  —  like 
Mrs.  Donner.  She  is  not  looking  this  way  —  and  may 
pass!  " 

Hardly  had  he  spoken  her  name,  before  we  had 
gathered  around  him  and  were  imploring  him  to  hurry 
back  and  call  our  mother.  We  were  too  excited  to  fol- 
low him  up  the  steps. 

She  came  to  us  quickly,  with  all  the  tenderness  and 

•      [111] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

courage  needed  to  lessen  our  troubles  and  soften  our 
fears.  Oh,  how  glad  we  were  to  see  her,  and  how 
thankful  she  appeared  to  be  with  us  once  more!  We 
heard  it  in  her  voice  and  saw  it  in  her  face ;  and  when 
we  begged  her  not  to  leave  us,  she  could  not  answer, 
but  clasped  us  closer  to  her  bosom,  kissed  us  anew  for 
father's  sake,  then  told  how  the  storm  had  distressed 
them.  Often  had  they  hoped  that  we  had  reached  the 
cabins  too  late  to  join  the  Relief  —  then  in  grieving 
anguish  felt  that  we  had,  and  might  not  live  to  cross 
the  summit. 

She  had  watched  the  fall  of  snow,  and  measured  its 
depth ;  had  seen  it  drift  between  the  two  camps  mak- 
ing the  way  so  treacherous  that  no  one  had  dared  to 
cross  it  until  the  day  before  her  own  coming;  then  she 
induced  Mr.  Clark  to  try  to  ascertain  if  Messrs.  Cady 
and  Stone  had  really  got  us  to  the  cabins  in  time  to  go 
with  the  Second  Relief. 

We  did  not  see  Mr.  Clark,  but  he  had  peered  in, 
taken  observations,  and  returned  by  nightfall  and  de- 
scribed to  her  our  condition. 

John  Baptiste  had  promised  to  care  for  father  in 
her  absence.  She  left  our  tent  in  the  morning  as 
early  as  she  could  see  the  way.  She  must  have  stayed 
with  us  over  night,  for  I  went  to  sleep  in  her  arms,  and 
they  were  still  around  me  when  I  awoke ;  and  it  seemed 
like  a  new  day,  for  we  had  time  for  many  cherished 
talks.  She  veiled  from  us  the  ghastliness  of  death, 
telling  us  Aunt  Betsy  and  both  our  little  cousins  had 
gone  to  heaven.     She  said  Lewis  had  been  first  to  go, 

[1121     ■ 


THE  PRECIOUS  HALF-BISCUIT 

and  his  mother  had  soon  followed ;  that  she  herself  had 
carried  little  Sammie  from  his  sick  mother's  tent  to 
ours  the  very  day  we  three  were  taken  away;  and  in 
order  to  keep  him  warm  while  the  storm  raged,  she 
had  laid  him  close  to  father's  side,  and  that  he  had 
stayed  with  them  until  **  day  before  yesterday." 

I  asked  her  if  Sammie  had  cried  for  bread.  She  re- 
plied, * '  No,  he  was  not  hungry,  for  your  mother  saved 
two  of  those  little  biscuits  which  the  relief  party 
brought,  and  every  day  she  soaked  a  tiny  piece  in 
water  and  fed  him  all  he  would  eat,  and  there  is  still 
half  a  biscuit  left. ' ' 

How  big  that  half -biscuit  seemed  to  me!  I  won- 
dered why  she  had  not  brought  at  least  a  part  of  it 
to  us.  While  she  was  talking  with  Mrs.  Murphy,  I 
could  not  get  it  out  of  my  mind.  I  could  see  that 
broken  half -biscuit,  with  its  ragged  edges,  and  knew 
that  if  I  had  a  piece,  I  would  nibble  off  the  rough 
points  first.  The  longer  I  waited,  the  more  I  wanted 
it.  Finally,  I  slipped  my  arm  around  mother's  neck, 
drew  her  face  close  to  mine  and  whispered, 

*  ^  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  the  half -biscuit  you 
saved!  " 

*'  I  am  keeping  it  for  your  sick  father,"  she  an- 
swered, drawing  me  closer  to  her  side,  laying  her  com- 
forting cheek  against  mine,  letting  my  arm  keep  its 
place,  and  my  fingers  stroke  her  hair. 

The  two  women  were  still  talking  in  subdued  tones, 
pouring  the  oil  of  sympathy  into  each  others'  gaping 
wounds.     Neither  heard  the  sound  of  feet  on  the  snow 

[113] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PAETY 

above ;  neither  knew  that  the  Third  Relief  Party  was 
at  hand,  until  Mr.  Eddy  and  Mr.  Foster  came  down  the 
steps,  and  each  asked  anxiously  of  Mrs.  Murphy, 
'^  Where  is  my  boy?  " 

Each     received    the     same     sorrowful     answer  — 
'*  Dead.'' 


.OOtUiT   -:. 


lii 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE  QUEST  OF  TWO  FATHERS SECOND  RELIEF  IN  DISTRESS 

THIRD     RELIEF     ORGANIZED    AT     WOODWORTH's    RELAY 

CAMP DIVIDES  AND  ONE  HALF  GOES  TO  SUCCOR  SECOND 

RELIEF  AND  ITS  REFUGEES;  AND  THE  OTHER  HALF  PRO- 
CEEDS TO  DONNER  LAKE A  LAST  FAREWELL A  WOM- 
AN's  SACRIFICE. 

IT  will  be  remembered  that  Mr.  Eddy,  being  ill,  was 
dropped  out  of  the  First  Relief  at  Mule  Springs 
in  February,  and  sent  back  to  Johnson's  Ranch  to 
await  the  return  of  this  party,  which  had  promised  to 
bring  out  his  family.  Who  can  realize  his  distress 
when  it  returned  with  eighteen  refugees,  and  informed 
him  that  his  wife  and  little  Maggie  had  perished  be- 
fore it  reached  the  camps,  and  that  it  had  been  obliged 
to  leave  his  baby  there  in  care  of  Mrs.  Murphy? 

Disappointed  and  aggrieved,  the  afflicted  father  im- 
mediately set  out  on  horseback,  hoping  that  he  would 
meet  his  child  on  the  trail  in  charge  of  the  Second  Re- 
lief, which  it  seemed  reasonable  to  expect  would  follow 
closely  in  the  footsteps  of  the  first.  He  was  accom- 
panied by  Mr.  Foster,  of  the  Forlorn  Hope,  who  had 
been  forced  to  leave  his  own  little  son  at  the  camp  in 
charge  of  Mrs.  Murphy,  its  grandmother. 

On  the  evening  of  the  second  day,  the  two  reached 

[1151 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

Woodworth 's  camp,  established  as  a  relay  station  pur- 
suant to  the  general  plan  of  rescue  originally  adopted. 
They  found  the  midshipman  in  snug  quarters  with  sev- 
eral men  to  do  his  bidding.  He  explained  that  the  lack 
of  competent  guides  had  prevented  his  venturing 
among  the  snow  peaks.  Whereupon,  Mr.  Eddy  earn- 
estly assured  him  that  the  trail  of  those  who  had  al- 
ready gone  up  outlined  the  way. 

After  much  deliberation,  Woodworth  and  his  men 
agreed  to  start  out  next  morning  for  the  mountain 
€amps,  but  tried  to  dissuade  Mr.  Eddy  from  accom- 
panying them  on  account  of  his  apparent  depleted  con- 
dition. Nevertheless  both  he  and  Mr.  Foster  remained 
firm,  and  with  the  party,  left  the  relay  camp,  crossed 
the  low  foothills  and  encamped  for  the  night  on  the 
Yuba  River. 

At  dusk,  Woodworth  was  surprised  by  the  arrival  of 
two  forlorn-looking  individuals,  whom  he  recognized 
as  members  of  the  Reed-Greenwood  Relief,  which  had 
gone  up  the  mountain  late  in  February  and  was  over- 
due. The  two  implored  food  for  themselves,  also  for 
their  seven  companions  and  three  refugees,  a  mile  back 
on  the  trail,  unable  to  come  farther. 

When  somewhat  refreshed,  they  were  able  to  go 
more  into  detail,  and  the  following  explanation  of  their 
plight  was  elicited: 

*^  One  of  our  men,  Clark,  is  at  Donner's  Camp,  and 
the  other  nine  of  us  left  the  cabins  near  the  lake  on 
the  third  of  March,  with  seventeen  of  the  starving 
emigrants.     The  storm  caught  us  as  we  crossed  the 

[116] 


STARVED  CAMP 

summit,  and  ten  miles  below,  drove  ns  into  camp.  It 
got  so  bad  and  lasted  so  long  that  our  provisions  gave 
out,  and  we  almost  froze  to  death  cutting  wood.  We 
all  worked  at  keeping  the  fires  until  we  were  com- 
pletely exhausted,  then  seeing  no  prospects  of  help 
coming  to  us,  we  left,  and  made  our  way  down  here, 
bringing  Reed's  two  children  and  Solomon  Hook,  who 
said  he  could  and  would  walk.  The  other  fourteen 
that  we  brought  over  the  summit  are  up  there  at  what 
we  call  Starved  Camp.  Some  are  dead,  the  rest  with- 
out food." 

Woodworth  and  two  followers  went  at  once  with 
provisions  to  the  near-by  sufferers,  and  later  brought 
them  down  to  camp. 

Messrs.  Reed  and  Greenwood  stated  that  every 
available  means  had  been  tried  by  them  to  get  the 
seventeen  unfortunates  well  over  the  summit  before 
the  great  storm  reached  its  height.  They  said  the 
physical  condition  of  the  refugees  was  such,  from  the 
very  start,  that  no  persuasion,  nor  warnings,  nor 
threats  could  quicken  their  feeble  steps.  All  but  three 
of  the  number  were  children,  with  their  hands  and 
feet  more  or  less  frozen.  Worse  still,  the  caches  on 
which  the  party  had  relied  for  sustenance  had  been 
robbed  by  wild  animals,  and  the  severity  of  the  storm 
had  forced  all  into  camp,  with  nothing  more  than  a 
breastwork  of  brush  to  shelter  them.  Mrs.  Elisabeth 
Graves  died  the  first  night,  leaving  to  the  party  the 
hopeless  task  of  caring  for  her  emaciated  babe  in  arms, 
and  her  three  other  children  between  the  ages  of  nine 

[117] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

and  five  years.  Soon,  however,  the  five-year-old  fol- 
lowed his  mother,  and  the  number  of  starving  was 
again  lessened  on  the  third  night  when  Isaac  Donner 
went  to  sleep  beside  his  sister  and  did  not  waken.  The 
storm  had  continued  so  furiously  that  it  was  impossible 
to  bury  the  dead.  Days  and  nights  were  spent  in 
steadfast  struggling  against  the  threatening  inev- 
itable, before  the  party  gave  up ;  and  Greenwood  and 
Reed,  taking  the  two  Reed  children  and  also  Solomon 
Hook,  who  walked,  started  down  the  mountain,  hoping 
to  save  their  own  lives  and  perhaps  get  fresh  men  to 
complete  the  pitiful  work  which  they  had  been  forced 
to  abandon. 

When  Messrs.  Reed  and  Greenwood  closed  their  ac- 
count of  the  terrible  physical  and  mental  strain  their 
party  had  undergone,  ''  Mr.  Woodworth  asked  his 
own  men  of  the  relay  camp,  if  they  would  go  with  him 
to  rescue  those  unfortunates  at  *  Starved  Camp,'  and 
received  an  answer  in  the  negative. ' '  * 

The  following  morning  there  was  an  earnest  con- 
sultation, and  so  hazardous  seemed  the  trail  and  the 
work  to  be  done  that  for  a  time  all  except  Eddy  and 
Foster  refused  to  go  farther.  Finally,  John  Stark 
stepped  forward,  saying, 

**  Gentlemen,  I  am  ready  to  go  and  do  what  I  can 
for  those  sufferers,  without  promise  of  pay." 

By  guaranteeing  three  dollars  per  day  to  any  man 
who  would  get  supplies  to  the  mountain  camps,  and 
fifty  dollars  in  addition  to  each  man  who  should  carry 

*Extract  from  Thornton's  work. 

[118] 


''  THE  THIRD  RELIEF  PARTY  '^ 

a  helpless  child,  not  his  own,  back  to  the  settlement, 
Mr.  Eddy  *  secured  the  services  of  Hiram  Miller,  who 
had  just  come  down  with  the  Second  Relief;  and  Mr. 
Foster  hired,  on  the  same  terms,  Mr.  Thompson  from 
the  relay  camp.  Mr.  Woodworth  offered  like  induce- 
ments, on  Government  account,  to  the  rest  of  his  men, 
and  before  the  morning  was  far  advanced,  with  William 
H.  Eddy  acting  as  leader,  William  Foster,  Hiram  Mil- 
ler, Mr.  Thompson,  John  Stark,  Howard  Oakley,  and 
Charles  Stone  (who  had  left  us  little  ones  at  the  lake 
camp)  shouldered  their  packs  and  began  the  ascent. 

Meanwhile  how  fared  it  at  Starved  Camp  ?  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Breen  being  left  there  with  their  own  five  suffer- 
ing children  and  the  four  other  poor,  moaning  little 
waifs,  were  tortured  by  situations  too  heart-rending 
for  description,  too  pitiful  to  seem  true.  Suffice  it  to 
relate  that  Mrs.  Breen  shared  with  baby  Graves  the 
last  lump  of  loaf  sugar  and  the  last  drops  of  tea,  of 
that  which  she  had  denied  herself  and  had  hoarded  for 
her  own  babe.  When  this  was  gone,  with  quivering 
lips  she  and  her  husband  repeated  the  litany  and 
prayed  for  strength  to  meet  the  ordeal, —  then,  turn- 
ing to  the  unburied  dead,  they  resorted  to  the  only 
means  left  to  save  the  nine  helpless  little  ones. 

When  Mr.  Eddy  and  party  reached  them,  they  found 
much  suffering  from  cold  and  crying  for  ^^  something 
to  eat,"  but  not  the  wail  which  precedes  delirium  and 
death. 

This  Third  Relief  Party  settled  for  the  night  upon 

*ThorntoTi  saw  Eddy  pay  Hiram  Miller  the  promised  fifty  dollars 
after  the  Third  Relief  reached  the  settlement. 

[119] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

the  snow  near  these  refugees,  who  had  twice  been  in 
the  shadow  of  doom;  and  after  giving  them  food  and 
fire,  Mr.  Eddy  divided  his  force  into  two  sections. 
Messrs.  Stark,  Oakley,  and  Stone  were  to  remain  there 
and  nurture  the  refugees  a  few  hours  longer,  then 
carry  the  small  children,  and  conduct  those  able  to 
walk  to  Mule  Springs,  while  Eddy  and  three  compan- 
ions should  hasten  on  to  the  cabins  across  the  summit.* 

Section  Two,  spurred  on  by  paternal  solicitude,  re- 
sumed travel  at  four  o  'clock  the  following  morning, 
and  crossed  the  summit  soon  after  sunrise.  The 
nearer  they  approached  camp,  the  more  anxious 
Messrs.  Eddy  and  Foster  became  to  reach  the  children 
they  hoped  to  find  alive.  Finally,  they  rushed  ahead, 
as  we  have  seen,  to  the  Murphy  cabin.  Alas !  only  dis- 
appointment met  them  there. 

Even  after  Mrs.  Murphy  had  repeated  her  pitiful 
answer,  *^  Dead,''  the  afflicted  fathers  stood  dazed  and 
silent,  as  if  waiting  for  the  loved  ones  to  return. 

Mr.  Eddy  was  the  first  to  recover  sufficiently  for  ac- 
tion. Presently  Simon  Murphy  and  we  three  little 
girls  were  standing  on  the  snow  under  a  clear  blue  sky, 
and  saw  Hiram  Miller  and  Mr.  Thompson  coming  to- 
ward camp. 

The  change  was  so  sudden  it  was  difficult  to  under- 
stand what  had  happened.  How  could  we  realize  that 
we  had  passed  out  of  that  loathsome  cabin,  never  to 
return ;  or  that  Mrs.  Murphy,  too  ill  to  leave  her  bed, 
and  Keseberg,  too  lame  to  walk,  by  reason  of  a  deep 

*See  McGlashan's  ''History  of  the  Donner  Party." 

[1201 


NAREATIVE  OF  COLONEL  THORNTON 

cleft  in  his  heel,  made  by  an  axe,  would  have  to  stay 
alone  in  that  abode  of  wretchedness  ? 

Nor.  could  we  know  our  mother ^s  anguish,  as  she 
stepped  aside  to  arrange  with  Mr.  Eddy  for  our  de- 
parture. She  had  told  us  at  our  own  camp  why  she 
would  remain.  She  had  parted  from  us  there  and  put 
us  in  charge  of  men  who  had  risked  much  and  come 
far  to  do  a  heroic  deed.  Later  she  had  found  us, 
abandoned  by  them,  in  time  of  direst  need,  and  in 
danger  of  an  awful  death,  and  had  warmed  and  cheered 
us  back  to  hope  and  confidence.  Now,  she  was  about 
to  confide  us  to  the  care  of  a  party  whose  leader  swore 
either  to  save  us  or  die  with  us  on  the  trail.  We  lis- 
tened to  the  sound  of  her  voice,  felt  her  good-bye 
kisses,  and  watched  her  hasten  away  to.  father,  over 
the  snow,  through  the  pines,  and  out  of  sight,  and 
knew  tliat  we  must  not  follow.  But  the  influence  of 
her  last  caress,  last  yearning  look  of  love  and  abiding 
faith  will  go  with  us  through  life. 

The  ordeal  through  which  she  passed  is  thus  told  by 
Colonel  Thornton,  after  a  personal  interview  with  Mr. 
Eddy: 

Mrs.  George  Donner  was  able  to  travel.  But  her  hus- 
band was  in  a  helpless  condition,  and  she  would  not  consent 
to  leave  him  while  he  survived.  She  expressed  her  solemn 
and  unalterable  purpose,  which  no  danger  or  peril  could 
change,  to  remain  and  perform  for  him  the  last  sad  office  of 
duty  and  affection.  She  manifested,  however,  the  greatest 
solicitude  for  her  children,  and  informed  Mr.  Eddy  that  she 
had  fifteen  hundred  dollars  in  silver,  all  of  which  she  would 
give  him,  if  he  would  save  the  lives  of  the  children. 

He  informed  her  that  he  would  not  carry  out  one  hun- 
dred dollars  of  all  she  had,  but  that  he  would  save  her  chil- 

[  121  ] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

dren  or  die  in  the  effort.  The  party  had  no  provisions  to 
leave  for  the  sustenance  of  these  unhappy,  unfortunate 
beings. 

After  remaining  about  two  hours,  Mr.  Eddy  informed 
Mrs.  Donner  that  he  was  constrained  by  force  of  circum- 
stances to  depart.  It  was  certain  that  George  Donner  would 
never  rise  from  the  miserable  bed  upon  which  he  had  lain 
down,  worn  by  toil  and  wasted  by  famine. 

A  woman  was  probably  never  before  placed  in  circum- 
stances of  greater  or  more  peculiar  trial;  but  her  duty  and 
affection  as  a  wife  triumphed  over  all  her  instincts  of  reason. 

The  parting  scene  between  parent  and  children  is  repre- 
sented as  being  one  that  will  never  be  forgotten,  so  long  as 
life  remains  or  memory  performs  its  functions. 

My  own  emotions  will  not  permit  me  to  attempt  a 
description  which  language,  indeed,  has  not  power  to  delin- 
eate. It  is  sufficient  to  say  that  it  was  affecting  beyond  meas- 
ure ;  and  that  the  last  words  uttered  by  Mrs.  Donner  in  tears 
and  sobs  to  Mr.  Eddy  were,  '*  Oh,  save,  save  my  children!  " 


[122 


CHAPTER  XV 

SIMON  MUKPHY,  FKANCES,  GEORGIA,  .AND  I  TAKEN  FROM  THE 

LAKE  CABINS  BY  THE  THIRD  RELIEF NO  FOOD  TO  LEAVE 

CROSSING  THE  SNOW  —  REMNANT  OF  THE  SECOND  RE- 
LIEF   OVERTAKEN OUT   OF    THE    SNOW INCIDENTS    OF 

THE     JOURNEY JOHNSON 's      RANCH THE      SINCLAIR 

HOME SUTTER  ^S  FORT. 

WHEN  we  left  the  lake  cabin,  we  still  wore  the 
clothing  we  had  on  when  we  came  from  our 
tent  with  Messrs.  Cady  and  Stone.  Georgia  and  I 
were  clad  in  quilted  petticoats,  linsey  dresses,  woollen 
stockings,  and  well-worn  shoes.  Our  cloaks  were  of  a 
twilled  material,  garnet,  with  a  white  thread  inter- 
woven, and  we  had  knitted  hoods  to  match.  Frances  ^ 
clothing  was  as  warm;  instead  of  cloak,  however,  she 
wore  a  shawl,  and  her  hood  was  blue.  Her  shoes  had 
been  eaten  by  our  starving  dog  before  he  disappeared, 
and  as  all  others  were  buried  out  of  reach,  mother  had 
substituted  a  pair  of  her  own  in  their  stead. 

Mr.  Foster  took  charge  of  Simon  Murphy,  his  wife's 
brother,  and  Messrs.  Eddy  and  Miller  carried  Georgia 
and  me.  Mr.  Eddy  always  called  Georgia  "  my 
girl,''  and  she  found  great  favor  in  his  eyes,  because  in 
size  and  looks  she  reminded  him  of  his  little  daughter 
who  had  perished  in  that  storm-bound  camp. 

[123] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

Our  first  stop  was  on  the  mountain-side  overlooking 
the  lake,  where  we  were  given  a  light  meal  of  bread 
and  meat  and  a  drink  of  water.  When  we  reached  the 
head  of  the  lake,  we  overtook  Nicholas  Clark  and  John 
Baptiste  who  had  deserted  father  in  his  tent  and  were 
hurrying  toward  the  settlement.  Our  coming  was  a 
surprise  to  them,  yet  they  were  glad  to  join  our  party. 

After  our  evening  allowance  of  food  we  were  stowed 
snugly  between  blankets  in  a  snow  trench  near  the 
summit  of  the  Sierras,  but  were  so  hungry  that  we 
could  hardly  get  to  sleep,  even  after  being  told  that 
more  food  would  do  us  harm. 

Early  next  morning  w^e  were  again  on  the  trail.  I 
could  not  walk  at  all,  and  Georgia  only  a  short  distance 
at  a  time.  So  treacherous  was  the  way  that  our  res- 
cuers often  stumbled  into  unseen  pits,  struggled  among 
snow  drifts,  and  climbed  icy  ridges  where  to  slip  or  fall 
might  mean  death  in  the  yawning  depth  below. 

Near  the  close  of  this  most  trying  day,  Hiram  M. 
Miller  put  me  down,  saying  wearily,  ^*  I  am  tired  of 
carrying  you.  If  you  will  walk  to  that  dark  thing  on 
the  mountain-side  ahead  of  us,  you  shall  have  a  nice 
lump  of  loaf  sugar  with  your  supper.'' 

My  position  in  the  blanket  had  been  so  cramped  that 
my  limbs  were  stiff  and  the  jostling  of  the  march  had 
made  my  body  ache.  I  looked  toward  the  object  to 
which  he  pointed.  It  seemed  a  long  way  off;  yet  I 
wanted  the  sugar  so  much  that  I  agreed  to  walk.  The 
wind  was  sharp.  I  shivered,  and  at  times  could  hardly 
lift  my  feet;  often  I  stumbled  and  would  have  fallen 

[124] 


CHILDREN  ON  THE  MARCH 

had  he  not  held  my  hand  tightly,  as  he  half  led,  half 
drew  me  onward.  I  did  my  part,  however,  in  glad  ex- 
pectation of  the  promised  bit  of  sweetness.  The  sun 
had  set  before  we  reached  our  landmark,  which  was  a 
felled  and  blackened  tree,  selected  to  furnish  fuel  for 
our  night  fire.  When  we  children  were  given  our 
evening  allowance  of  food,  I  asked  for  my  lump  of 
sugar,  and  cried  bitterly  on  being  harshly  told  there 
was  none  for  me.  Too  disappointed  and  fretted  to 
care  for  anything  else,  I  sobbed  myself  to  sleep. 

Nor  did  I  waken  happy  next  morning.  I  had  not 
forgotten  the  broken  promise,  and  was  lonesome  for 
mother.  When  Mr.  Miller  told  me  that  I  should  walk 
that  day  as  far  as  Frances  and  Georgia  did,  I  refused 
to  go  forward,  and  cried  to  go  back.  The  result  was 
that  he  used  rough  means  before  I  promised  to  be  good 
and  do  as  he  commanded.  His  act  made  my  sister 
Frances  rush  to  my  defence,  and  also,  touched  a  chord 
in  the  fatherly  natures  of  the  other  two  men,  who  sum- 
marily brought  about  a  more  comfortable  state  of 
affairs. 

When  we  proceeded  on  our  journey,  I  was  again 
carried  by  Mr.  Miller  in  a  blanket  on  his  back  as  young 
children  are  carried  by  Indians  on  long  journeys.  My 
head  above  the  blanket  folds  bobbed  uncomfortably  at 
every  lurch.  The  trail  led  up  and  down  and  around 
snow  peaks,  and  under  overhanging  banks  that  seemed 
ready  to  give  way  and  crush  us. 

At  one  turn  our  rescuers  stopped,  picked  up  a  bun- 
dle, and  carefully  noted  the  fresh  human  foot  prints  in 

[  125  1 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

the  snow  which  indicated  that  a  number  of  persons 
were  moving  in  advance.  By  onr  fire  that  night,  Mr* 
Eddy  opened  the  bundle  that  we  had  found  upon  the 
snow,  and  to  the  surprise  of  all,  Frances  at  once  rec- 
ognized in  it  the  three  silk  dresses,  silver  spoons,  small 
keepsakes,  and  articles  of  children's  clothing  which 
mother  had  intrusted  to  the  care  of  Messrs.  Cady  and 
Stone. 

The  spoons  and  smaller  articles  were  now  stowed 
away  in  the  pockets  of  our  rescuers  for  safekeeping 
on  the  journey;  and  while  we  little  girls  dressed  our- 
selves in  the  fresh  underwear,  and  watched  our  dis- 
carded garments  disappear  in  the  fire,  the  dresses, 
which  mother  had  planned  should  come  to  us  later  in 
life,  were  remodelled  for  immediate  use. 

Mr.  Thompson  pulled  out  the  same  sharp  pocket- 
knife,  coarse  black  thread,  and  big-eyed  needle,  which 
he  had  used  the  previous  evening,  while  making 
Frances  a  pair  of  moccasins  out  of  his  own  gauntlet 
gloves.  With  the  help  of  Mr.  Eddy,  he  then  ripped 
out  the  sleeves,  cut  off  the  waists  about  an  inch  above 
the  skirt  gathers,  cut  slits  in  the  skirts  for  arm-holes, 
and  tacked  in  the  sleeves.  Then,  with  mother's  wish 
in  mind,  they  put  the  dove-colored  silk  on  Frances,  the 
light  brown  on  Georgia,  and  the  dark  coffee-brown  on 
me.  Pleats  and  laps  in  the  skirt  bands  were  necessary 
to  fit  them  to  our  necks.  Strings  were  tied  around  our 
waists,  and  the  skirts  tacked  up  until  they  were  of 
walking  length.  These  ample  robes  served  for  cloaks 
as  well  as  dresses  for  we  could  easily  draw  our  hands 

[1261 


CAMP  AT  THE  YUBA  RIVER 

back  through  the  sleeves  and  keep  our  arms  warm  be- 
neath the  folds.  Thus  comfortably  clad,  we  began  an- 
other day's  journey. 

Before  noon  we  overtook  and  passed  Messrs.  Oakley, 
Stone,  and  Stark,  having  in  charge  the  following  ref- 
ugees from  Starved  Camp :  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Patrick  Breen 
and  their  five  children;  Mary  Donner,  Jonathan 
Graves,  Nancy  Graves,  and  baby  Graves.  Messrs. 
Oakley  and  Stone  were  in  advance,  the  former  carry- 
ing Mary  Donner  over  his  shoulder;  and  the  latter 
baby  Graves  in  his  arms.  Great-hearted  John  Stark 
had  the  care  of  all  the  rest.  He  was  broad-shouldered 
and  powerful,  and  would  stride  ahead  with  two  weak- 
lings at  a  time,  deposit  them  on  the  trail  and  go  back 
for  others  who  could  not  keep  up.  These  were  the 
remnant  of  the  hopeful  seventeen  who  had  started  out 
on  the  third  of  March  with  the  Second  Relief,  and  with 
whom  mother  had  hoped  we  children  would  cross  tlie 
mountains. 

It  was  after  dark  when  our  own  little  party  en- 
camped at  the  crossing  of  the  Yuba  River.  The  fol- 
lowing morning  Lieutenant  Woodworth  and  attendants 
were  found  near-by.  He  commended  the  work  done 
by  the  Third  Relief;  yet,  to  Mr.  Eddy's  dismay,  he  de- 
clared that  he  would  not  go  to  the  rescue  of  those  who 
were  still  in  the  mountains,  because  the  warmer 
weather  was  melting  the  snow  so  rapidly  that  the  lives 
of  his  men  would  be  endangered  should  he  attempt  to 
lead  them  up  the  trail  which  we  had  just  followed 
down.     He  gave  our  party  rations,  and  said  that  he 

[127] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

would  at  once  proceed  to  Johnson  ^s  Ranch  and  from 
thera  send  to  Mule  Springs  the  requisite  number  of 
horses  to  carry  to  the  settlement  the  persons  now  on 
the  trail. 

Our  party  did  not  resume  travel  until  ten  o'clock 
that  morning;  nevertheless,  we  crossed  the  snow  line 
and  made  our  next  camp  at  Mule  Springs.  There  we 
caught  the  first  breath  of  springtide,  touched  the  warm, 
dry  earth,  and  saw  green  fields  far  beyond  the  foot  of 
that  cold,  cruel  mountain  range.  Our  rescuers  ex- 
claimed joyfully,  **  Thank  God,  we  are  at  last  out  of 
the  snow,  and  you  shall  soon  .see  Elitha  and  Leanna, 
and  have  all  you  want  to  eat.'' 

Our  allowance  of  food  had  been  gradually  increased 
and  our  improved  condition  bore  evidence  of  the  good 
care  and  kind  treatment  we  had  received.  We  re- 
mained several  days  at  Mule  Springs,  and  were  com- 
paratively happy  until  the  arrival  of  the  unfortunates 
from  Starved  Camp,  who  stretched  forth  their  gaunt 
hands  and  piteously  begged  for  food  which  would  have 
caused  death  had  it  been  given  to  them  in  sufficient 
quantities  to  satisfy  their  cravings. 

When  I  went  among  them  I  found  my  little  cousin 
Mary  sitting  on  a  blanket  near  Mr.  Oakley,  who  had 
carried  her  thither,  and  who  was  gently  trying  to  en- 
gage her  thoughts.  Her  wan  face  was  wet  with  tears, 
and  her  hands  were  clasped  around  her  knee  as  she 
rocked  from  side  to  side  in  great  pain.  A  large  woollen 
stocking  covered  her  swollen  leg  and  frozen  foot  which 
had  become  numb  and  fallen  into  the  fire  one  night  at 

[128] 


AT  JOHNSON'S  RANCH 

Starved  Camp  and  been  badly  maimed  before  she 
awakened  to  feel  the  pain.  I  wanted  to  speak  to  her, 
but  when  I  saw  how  lonesome  and  ill  she  looked,  some- 
thing like  pain  choked  otf  my  words.  • 

Her  brother  Isaac  had  died  at  that  awful  camp  and 
she  herself  would  not  have  lived  had  Mr.  Oakley  not 
been  so  good  to  her.  He  was  now  comforting  her  with 
the  assurance  that  he  would  have  the  foot  cared  for  by 
a  doctor  as  soon  as  they  should  reach  the  settlement; 
and  she,  believing  him,  was  trying  to  be  brave  and 
patient. 

We  all  resumed  travel  on  horseback  and  reached 
Johnson's  Ranch  about  the  same  hour  in  the  day.  As 
we  approached,  the  little  colony  of  emigrants  which 
had  settled  in  the  neighborhood  the  previous  Autumn 
crowded  in  and  about  the  two-roomed  adobe  house 
which  Mr.  Johnson  had  kindly  set  apart  as  a  stopping 
place  for  the  several  relief  parties  on  their  way  to 
and  from  the  mountains.  All  were  anxious  to  see 
the  sufferers  for  whose  rescue  they  had  helped  to  pro- 
vide. 

Survivors  of  the  Forlorn  Hope  and  of  the  First  Re- 
lief were  also  there  awaiting  the  arrival  of  expected 
loved  ones.  There  Simon  Murphy,  who  came  with  us, 
met  his  sisters  and  brother;  Mary  Graves  took  from 
the  arms  of  Charles  Stone,  her  slowly  dying  baby  sis- 
ter; she  received  from  the  hands  of  John  Stark  her 
brother  Jonathan  and  her  sister  Nancy,  and  heard  of 
the  death  of  her  mother  and  of  her  brother  Franklin 
at  Starved  Camp.     That  house  of  welcome  became  a 

r  129 1 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

house  of  mourning  when  Messrs.  Eddy  and  Foster  re- 
peated the  names  of  those  who  had  perished  in  the 
snows.  The  scenes  were  so  heart-rending  that  I 
slipped  out  of  doors  and  sat  in  the  sunshine  waiting 
for- Frances  and  Georgia,  and  thinking  of  her  who  had 
intrusted  us  to  the  care  of  God. 

Before  our  short  stay  at  the  Johnson  Ranch  ended, 
we  little  girls  had  a  peculiar  experience.  While  stand- 
ing in  a  doorway,  the  door  closed  with  a  bang  upon  two 
of  my  fingers.  My  piercing  cry  brought  several  per- 
sons to  the  spot,  and  one  among  them  sat  down  and 
soothed  me  in  a  motherly  way.  After  I  was  myself 
again,  she  examined  the  dress  into  which  Messrs. 
Thompson  and  Eddy  had  stitched  so  much  good-will, 
and  she  said: 

^^  Let  me  take  off  this  clumsy  thing,  and  give  you  a 
little  blue  dress  with  white  flowers  on  it. ' '  She  made 
the  change,  and  after  she  had  fastened  it  in  the  back 
she  got  a  needle  and  white  thread  and  bade  me  stand 
closer  to  her  so  that  she  might  sew  up  the  tear  which 
exposed  my  knees.  She  asked  why  I  looked  so  hard 
at  her  sewing,  and  I  replied, 

^*  My  mother  always  makes  little  stitches  when  she 
sews  my  dresses.'' 

No  amount  of  pulling  down  of  the  sleeves  or 
straightening  out  of  the  skirt  could  conceal  the  fact 
that  I  was  too  large  for  the  garment.  As  I  was  leav- 
ing her,  I  heard  her  say  to  a  companion,  *  *  That  is  just 
as  good  for  her,  and  this  will  make  two  for  my  little 
girl.''    Later  in  the  day  Frances  and  Georgia  parted 

[130] 


AREIVAL  AT  SUTTER'S  FORT 

with  their  silks  and  looked  as  forlorn  as  I  in  calico 
substitutes. 

Oh,  the  balm  and  beauty  of  that  early  morniuii^  when 
Messrs.  Eddy,  Thompson,  and  Miller  took  us  on  horse- 
back down  the  Sacramento  Valley.  Under  the  leafy 
trees  and  over  the  budding  blossoms  we  rode.  Not 
rapidly,  but  steadily,  we  neared  our  journey's  end. 
Toward  night,  when  the  birds  had  stopped  their  sing- 
ing and  were  hiding  themselves  among  bush  and  bough, 
we  reached  the  home  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  John  Sinclair  on 
the  American  River,  thirty-five  miles  from  Johnson's 
Ranch  and  only  two  and  a  half  from  Sutter 's  Fort. 

That  hospitable  house  was  over-crowded  with  earlier 
arrivals,  but  as  it  was  too  late  for  us  to  cross  the  river, 
sympathetic  Mrs.  Sinclair  said  that  she  would  find  a 
place  for  us.  Having  no  bed  to  offer,  she  loosened 
the  rag-carpet  from  one  corner  of  the  room,  had  fresh 
straw  put  on  the  floor,  and  after  supper,  tucked  us 
away  on  it,  drawing  the  carpet  over  us  in  place  of 
quilts. 

We  had  bread  and  milk  for  supper  that  night,  and 
the  same  good  food  next  day.  In  the  afternoon  we 
were  taken  across  the  river  in  an  Indian  canoe.  Then 
we  followed  the  winding  path  through  the  tules  to  Sut- 
ter's Fort,  where  we  were  given  over  to  our  half-sisters 
by  those  heroic  men  who  had  kept  their  pledge  to  our 
mother  and  saved  our  lives. 


[131] 


CHAPTER  XVI 

ELITHA    AND    LEANNA LIFE    AT    THE    FORT WATCHING 

THE     COW    PATH RETURN    OF     THE    FALLON    PARTY 

KESEBERG  BROUGHT  IN  BY  THEM FATHER  AND  MOTHER 

DID  NOT  COME. 

THE  room  in  wliicli  Elitha  and  Leanna  were  stay- 
ing when  we  arrived  at  Sutter's  Fort  was  part  of 
a  long,  low,  single-story  adobe  building  outside  the  for- 
tification walls,  and  like  others  that  were  occupied  by 
belated  travellers,  was  the  barest  and  crudest  struc- 
ture imaginable.  It  had  an  earthen  floor,  a  thatched 
roof,  a  batten  door,  and  an  opening  in  the  rear  wall 
to  serve  as  window. 

We  little  ones  were  oblivious  of  discomfort,  how- 
ever. The  tenderness  with  which  we  were  received, 
and  the  bewildering  sense  of  safety  that  we  felt, 
blinded  us  even  to  the  anguish  and  fear  which  crept 
over  our  two  sisters,  when  they  saw  us  come  to  them 
alone.  How  they  suffered  I  learned  many  years  later 
from  Elitha,  who  said,  in  referring  to  those  pitiful 
experiences : 

After  Sister  Leanna  and  I  reached  the  Fort  with  the 
First  Relief,  we  were  put  in  different  families  to  await  our 
parents;  but  as  soon  as  the  Second  Relief  was  expected,  we 

[  132  ] 


REPORT  AT  FORT 

went  to  housekeeping,  gathered  wood,  and  had  everything 
ready.  No  one  came.  Then  we  waited  and  watched  anxiously 
for  the  Third  Relief,  and  it  was  a  sad  sight  to  see  you 
three  and  no  more. 

I  went  in,  kindled  the  fire,  and  gave  you  supper.  I  had 
a  bed  of  shavings  hemmed  in  with  poles  for  father  and 
mother.  They  did  not  come.  We  five  lay  down  upon  it, 
and  Sister  Leanna  and  I  talked  long  after  you  three  were 
asleep,  wondering  what  we  should  do.  You  had  no  clothes, 
except  those  you  wore,  so  the  next  day  I  got  a  little  cotton 
stuff  and  commenced  making  you  some.  Sister  Leanna  did 
the  cooking  and  looked  after  you,  which  took  all  her  time. 

The  United  States  Army  officer  at  the  Fort  had  left  orders 
at  Captain  Sutter's  store,  that  we  should  be  furnished  with 
the  necessaries  of  life,  and  that  was  how  we  were  able  to  get 
the  food  and  few  things  we  had  when  you  arrived. 

Messrs.  Eddy  and  Thompson  did  not  tell  my  sisters 
that  they  had  no  expectation  of  father's  getting 
through,  and  considered  mother's  chance  very  slight, 
but  went  directly  to  the  Fort  to  report  to  Colonel 
McKinstry  and  to  Mr.  Kerns  what  their  party  had  ac- 
complished, and  to  inform  them  that  Lieutenant  Wood- 
worth  was  about  to  break  camp  and  return  to  the 
settlement  instead  of  trying  to  get  relief  to  the  four 
unfortunates  still  at  the  mountain  camp. 

Very  soon  thereafter,  a  messenger  on  horseback 
from  the  Fort  delivered  a  letter  to  Lieutenant  Wood- 
worth,  and  a  fourth  party  was  organized,  **  consisting 
of  John  Stark,  John  Rhodes,  E  Coffeymier,  John  Del, 
Daniel  Tucker,  Wm.  Foster,  and  Wm.  Graves.  But 
this  party  proceeded  no  farther  than  Bear  Valley  on 
account  of  the  rapidly  melting  snows."  * 

The  return  of  the  party  after  its  fruitless  efforts 

*Thornton. 

[  133  ] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

was  not  made  known  to  Elitha  and  Leanna ;  nor  were 
they  aware  that  Thomas  Fallon,  with  six  companions, 
had  set  out  for  the  mountain  camps  on  the  tenth  of 
April. 

Neither  fear  nor  misgivings  troubled  us  little  ones 
the  morning  we  started  out,  hand  in  hand,  to  explore 
our  new  surroundings.  We  had  rested,  been  washed, 
combed,  and  fed,  and  we  believed  that  father  and 
mother  would  soon  come  to  us.  Everything  was  beau- 
tiful to  our  eyes.  We  did  not  care  if  ^^  the  houses  did 
look  as  if  they  were  made  of  dry  dirt  and  had  n  ^t  any- 
thing but  holes  for  windows.'^  We  watched  the 
mothers  sitting  on  the  door  sills  or  on  chairs  near  them 
laughing  as  they  talked  and  sewed,  and  it  seemed  good 
to  see  the  little  children  at  play  and  hear  them  singing 
their  dolls  to  sleep. 

The  big  gate  to  the  adobe  wall  around  Captain  Sut- 
ter's home  was  open,  and  we  could  look  in  and  see 
many  white-washed  huts  built  against  the  back  and 
side  walls,  and  a  flag  waving  from  a  pole  in  front  of  the 
large  house,  which  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  ground. 
Cannons  like  those  we  had  seen  at  Fort  Laramie  were 
also  peeping  out  of  holes  in  these  walls,  and  an  Indian 
soldier  and  a  white  soldier  were  marching  to  and  fro, 
each  holding  a  gun  against  his  shoulder,  and  it  point- 
ing straight  up  in  the  air. 

Often  we  looked  at  each  other  and  exclaimed,  * '  How 
good  to  be  here  instead  of  up  in  the  snow.'*  It  was 
hard  to  go  back  to  the  house  when  sisters  called  us. 


134 


o 

o 

Q 

H 

<1 
O 


DEEDS  OF  KINDNESS 

I  do  not  remember  the  looks  or  the  taste  of  anything 
they  gave  us  to  eat.  We  were  so  eager  to  stay  out  in 
the  sunshine.  Before  long,  we  went  to  that  dreary, 
bare  room  only  to  sleep.  Many  of  the  women  at  the 
Fort  were  kind  to  us ;  gave  us  bread  from  their  scant 
loaves  not  only  because  we  were  destitute,  but  because 
they  had  grateful  recollection  of  those  whose  name  we 
bore. 

Once  a  tall,  freckle-faced  boy,  with  very  red  hair, 
edged  up  to  where  I  was  watching  others  at  play,  and 
whispered : 

^^  See  here,  little  gal,  you  run  get  that  little  tin  cup 
of  yourn,  and  when  you  see  me  come  out  of  Mrs.  Wim- 
mer's  house  with  the  milk  pail  on  my  arm,  you  go 
round  yonder  to  the  tother  side  of  the  cow-pen,  where 
you  '11  find  a  hole  big  enough  to  put  the  cup  through. 
Then  you  can  watch  me  milk  it  full  of  the  nicest  milk 
3^ou  ever  tasted.  You  needn't  say  nothing  to  no- 
body about  it.  I  give  your  little  sister  some  last  time, 
and  I  want  to  do  the  same  for  you.  I  hain't  got  no 
mother  neither,  and  I  know  how  it  is." 

When  I  got  there  he  took  the  cup  and,  as  he  sat  down 
under  old  Bossy,  smilingly  asked  if  I  liked  lots  of 
foam.  I  told  him  I  did.  He  milked  a  faster,  stronger 
stream,  then  handed  me  the  cup,  full  as  he  could  carry 
it,  and  a  white  cap  of  foam  stood  above  its  rim.  I 
tasted  it  and  told  him  it  was  too  good  to  drink  fast, 
but  he  watched  me  until  it  was  all  gone.  Then,  say- 
ing he  didn't  want  thanks,  he  hurried  me  back  to  the 

[  135  ] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

children.  I  never  saw  that  boy  again,  but  have  ever 
been  grateful  for  his  act  of  pure  kindness. 

Every  day  or  two  a  horse  all  white  with  lather  and 
dripping  with  sweat  would  rush  by,  and  the  Indian  or 
white  man  on  his  back  would  guide  him  straight  to 
Captain  Kerns'  quarters,  where  he  would  hand  out 
papers  and  letters.  The  women  and  children  would 
flock  thither  to  see  if  it  meant  news  for  them.  Often 
they  were  disappointed  and  talked  a  great  deal  about 
the  tediousness  of  the  Mexican  War  and  the  delays  of 
Captain  Fremont's  company.  They  wanted  the  war 
to  end,  and  their  men  folk  back  so  that  they  could 
move  and  get  to  farming  before  it  should  be  too  late  to 
grow  garden  truck  for  family  use. 

While  they  thus  anxiously  awaited  the  return  of 
their  soldiers,  we  kept  watch  of  the  cow-path  by  which 
we  had  reached  the  Fort;  for  Elitha  had  told  us  that 
we  might  **  pretty  soon  see  the  relief  coming."  She 
did  not  say,  **  with  father  and  mother  "  ;  but  we  did, 
and  she  replied,  **  I  hope  so." 

We  were  very  proud  of  the  new  clothes  she  had 
made  us ;  but  the  first  time  she  washed  and  hung  them 
out  to  dry,  they  were  stolen,  and  we  were  again  des- 
titute. Sister  Elitha  thought  perhaps  strange  Indians 
took  them. 

In  May,  the  Fallon  party  arrived  with  horses  laden 
with  many  packs  of  goods,  but  their  only  refugee  was 
Lewis  Keseberg,  from  the  cabin  near  the  lake. 

It  was  evening,  and  some  one  came  to  our  door, 

[  136  ] . 


LOSS  OF  FATHER  AND  MOTHER 

spoke  to  Elitha  and  Leanna  in  low  tones  and  went 
away.  My  sisters  turned,  put  their  arms  about  us  and 
wept  bitterly.  Then,  gently,  compassionately,  the 
cruel,  desolating  truth  was  told.  Ah,  how  could  we  be- 
lieve it?  No  anxious  watching,  no  weary  waiting 
would  ever  bring  father  and  mother  to  us  again ! 


[137] 


CHAPTEE  XVII 

ORP'HANS KESEBERG    AND    HIS    ACCUSERS SENSATIONAL 

ACCOUNTS    OF    THE    TRAGEDY    AT    DONNER    LAKE PROP- 
ERTY SOLD  AND  GUARDIAN  APPOINTED KINDLY  INDIANS 

* '  GRANDPA  ' ' MARRIAGE    OF    ELITHA. 

THE  report  of  our  affliction  spread  rapidly,  and 
the  well-meaning,  tender-hearted  women  at  the 
Fort  came  to  condole  and  weep  with  us,  and  made  their 
children  weep  also  by  urging, '  ^  Now,  do  say  something 
comforting  to  these  poor  little  girls,  who  were  frozen 
and  starved  up  in  the  mountains,  and  are  now  orphans 
in  a  strange  land,  without  any  home  or  any  one  to  care 
for  them." 

Such  ordeals  were  too  overwhelming.  I  would  rush 
off  alone  among  the  wild  flowers  to  get  away  from  the 
torturing  sympathy.  Even  there,  I  met  those  who 
would  look  at  me  with  great  serious  eyes,  shake  their 
heads,  and  mournfully  say,  **  You  poor  little  mite,  how 
much  better  it  would  be  if  you  had  died  in  the  moun- 
tains with  your  dear  mother,  instead  of  being  left 
alone  to  struggle  in  this  wicked  world !  ' ' 

This  would  but  increase  my  distress,  for  I  did  not 
want  to  be  dead  and  buried  up  there  under  the  cold, 
deep  snow,  and  I  knew  that  mother  did  not  want  me 
to  be  there  either.    Had  she  not  sent  me  away  to  save 

[138] 


CHARGES  AGAINST  KESEBERG 

me.  and  asked  God,  our  Heavenly  Father,  to  take  care 
of  me? 

Intense  excitement  and  indignation  prevailed  at  the 
Fort  after  Captain  Fallon  and  other  members  of  his 
party  gave  their  account  of  the  conditions  found  at  the 
mountain  camps,  and  of  interviews  had  with  Keseberg, 
whom  they  now  called,  '"'  cannibal,  robber,  and  mur- 
derer. ' '  The  wretched  man  was  accused  by  this  party, 
not  only  of  having  needlessly  partaken  of  human  flesh, 
and  of  having  appropriated  coin  and  other  property 
which  should  have  come  to  us  orphaned  children,  but 
also  of  having  wantonly  taken  the  life  of  Mrs.  Murphy 
and  of  my  mother. 

Some  declared  him  crazy,  others  called  him  a  mon- 
ster. Keseberg  denied  these  charges  and  repeatedly 
accused  Fallon  and  his  party  of  making  false  state- 
ments. He  sadly  acknowledged  that  he  had  used  hu- 
man flesh  to  keep  himself  from  starving,  but  swore 
that  he  was  guiltless  of  taking  human  life.  He  stated 
that  Mrs.  Murphy  had  died  of  starvation  soon  after  the 
departure  of  the  ' '  Third  Relief, ' '  and  that  my  mother 
had  watched  by^  father's  bedside  until  he  died.  After 
preparing  his  body  for  burial,  she  had  started  out  on 
the  trail  to  go  to  her  children.  In  attempting  to  cross 
the  distance  from  her  camp  to  his,  she  had  strayed  and 
wandered  about  far  into  the  night,  and  finally  reached 
his  cabin  wet,  shivering,  and  grief-stricken,  yet  de- 
termined to  push  onward.  She  had  brought  nothing 
with  her,  but  told  him  where  to  find  money  to  take  to 
her  children  in  the  event  of  her  not  reaching  them. 

[1391 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

He  stated  that  he  offered  her  food,  which  she  refused. 
He  then  attempted  to  persuade  her  to  wait  until  morn- 
ing, and  while  they  were  talking,  she  sank  upon  the 
floor  completely  exhausted,  and  he  covered  her  with 
blankets  and  made  a  fire  to  warm  her.  In  the  morning 
he  found  her  cold  in  death. 

Keseberg's  vehement  and  steadfast  denial  of  the 
crimes  of  which  he  stood  accused  saved  him  from  per- 
sonal violence,  but  not  from  suspicion  and  ill-will.  Wo- 
men shunned  him,  and  children  stoned  him  as  he 
walked  about  the  fort.  The  California  Star  printed  in 
full  the  account  of  the  Fallon  party,  and  blood-curdling 
editorials  increased  public  sentiment  against  Keseberg, 
stamping  him  with  the  mark  of  Cain,  and  closing  the 
door  of  every  home  against  him.* 

Elitha  and  Leanna  tried  to  keep  us  little  ones  in 
ignorance  of  the  report  that  our  father's  body  was 
mutilated,  also  of  what  was  said  about  the  alleged  mur- 
der of  our  mother.  Still  we  did  hear  fragments  of 
conversations  which  greatly  disturbed  us,  and  our 
sisters  found  it  difficult  to  answer  some  of  our 
questions. 

Meanwhile,  more  disappointments  for  us  were  brew- 
ing at  the  fort.  Fallon's  party  demanded  an  imme- 
diate settlement  of  its  claim.  It  had  gone  up  the 
mountains  under  promise  that  its  members  should 
have  not  only  a  per  diem  as  rescuers,  but  also  one 
half  of  all  the  property  that  they  might  bring  to  the 
settlement,  and  they  had  brought  valuable  packs  from 

*See  Appendix  for  account  of  the  Fallon  party,  quoted  from  Thorn- 
ton's work. 

[140] 


PROVISION  FOR  DONNER  CHILDREN 

the  camps  of  the  Donners.  Captain  Fallon  also  had 
two  hundred  and  twenty-five  dollars  in  gold  coin 
taken  from  concealment  on  Keseberg's  person,  and 
two  hundred  and  seventy-five  dollars  additional  taken 
from  a  cache  that  Keseberg  had  disclosed  after  the 
Captain  had  partially  strangled  him,  and  otherwise 
brutally  treated  him,  to  extort  information  of  hidden 
treasure. 

Keseberg  did  not  deny  that  this  money  belonged  to 
the  Donners,  but  asserted  that  it  was  his  intention  and 
desire  to  take  it  to  the  Donner  children  himself  as  he 
had  promised  their  mother. 

Eventually,  it  was  agreed  that  the  Donner  prop- 
erties should  be  sold  at  auction,  and  that  ^^  one  half 
of  the  proceeds  should  be  handed  over  to  Captain  Fal- 
lon to  satisfy  the  claims  of  his  party,  and  the  other 
half  should  be  put  into  the  hands  of  a  guardian  for  the 
support  of  the  Donner  children.''  Hiram  Miller  was 
appointed  guardian  by  Alcalde  Sinclair. 

Notwithstanding  these  plans  for  our  well-being,  un- 
accountable delays  followed,  making  our  situation 
daily  more  trying. 

Elitha  was  not  yet  fifteen  years  of  age,  and  Leanna 
was  two  years  younger.  They  had  not  fully  recovered 
from  the  effects  of  tlieir  long  privations  and  physical 
sufferings  in  the  mountains;  and  the  loss  of  parents 
and  means  of  support  placed  upon  them  responsibil- 
ities greater  than  they  could  carry,  no  matter  how 
bravely  they  strove  to  meet  the  situation.  **  How  can 
we  provide  for  ourselves  and  these  little  sisters?  " 

[141] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

was  a  question  wliicli  haunted  them  by  night  and  per- 
plexed them  by  day. 

They  had  no  way  of  communicating  with  our  friends 
in  Eastern  States,  and  the  women  at  the  Fort  could  ill 
afford  to  provide  longer  for  us,  since  their  bread  win- 
ners were  still  with  Fremont,  and  their  own  supplies 
were  limited.  Finally,  my  two  eldest  sisters  were 
given  employment  by  different  families  in  exchange 
for  food,  which  they  shared  with  us ;  but  it  was  often 
insufficient,  and  we  little  ones  drifted  along  forlornly. 
Sometimes  home  was  where  night  overtook  us. 

Often,  we  trudged  to  the  rancheria  beyond  the  pond, 
made  by  the  adobe-moulders  who  had  built  the  houses 
and  wall  surrounding  the  fort.  There  the  Indian 
mothers  were  good  to  us.  They  gave  us  shreds  of 
smoked  fish  and  dried  acorns  to  eat;  lowered  from 
their  backs  the  queer  little  baby-beds,  called  *^  bick- 
ooses,''  and  made  the  chubby  faces  in  them  laugh  for 
our  amusement.  They  also  let  us  pet  the  dogs  that 
perked  up  their  ears  and  wagged  their  tails  as  our  own 
Uno  used  to  do  when  he  wanted  to  frolic.  Sometimes 
they  stroked  our  hair  and  rubbed  the  locks  between 
their  fingers,  then  felt  their  own  as  if  to  note  the  differ- 
ence. They  seemed  sorry  because  we  could  not  under- 
stand their  speech. 

The  pond  also,  with  its  banks  of  flowers,  winding 
path,  and  dimpling  waters,  had  charms  for  us  until  one 
day's  experience  drove  us  from  it  forever.  We  three 
were  playing  near  it  when  a  joyous  Indian  girl  with  a 
bundle  of  clothes  on  her  head  ran  down  the  bank  to  the 

[  142  ] 


RESCUE  BY  INDIAN  GIRL 

water  ^s  edge.  We,  following,  watched  her  drop  her 
bundle  near  a  board  that  sloped  from  a  rock  into  na- 
ture's tub,  then  kneel  upon  the  upper  end  and  souse 
the  clothes  merrily  up  and  down  in  the  clear  water. 
She  lathered  them  with  a  freshly  gathered  soap-root 
and  cleansed  them  according  to  the  ways  of  the  Span- 
ish mission  teachers.  As  she  tied  the  wet  garments  in 
a  bundle  and  turned  to  carry  them  to  the  drying- 
ground,  Frances  espied  some  loose  yellow  poppies 
floating  near  the  end  of  the  board  and  lay  down  upon 
it  for  the  purpose  of  catching  them.. 

Georgia  and  I  saw  her  lean  over  and  stretch  out  her 
hand  as  far  as  she  could  reach ;  saw  the  poppies  drift 
just  beyond  her  finger  tips;  saw  her  lean  a  little  far- 
ther, then  slip,  head  first,  into  the  deep  water.  Such 
shrieks  as  terrified  children  give,  brought  the  Indian 
girl  quickly  to  our  aid.  Like  a  flash,  she  tossed  the 
bundle  from  her  head,  sprang  into  the  water,  snatched 
Frances  as  she  rose  to  the  surface,  and  restored  her  to 
us  without  a  word.  Before  we  had  recovered  suffi- 
ciently to  speak,  she  was  gone. 

Not  a  soul  was  in  sight  when  we  started  toward  the 
Fort,  all  unconscious  of  what  the  inevitable  *  *  is  to  be  ' ' 
was  weaving  into  our  lives. 

We  were  too  young  to  keep  track  of  time  by  calen- 
dar, but  counted  it  by  happenings.  Some  were  marked 
with  tears,  some  with  smiles,  and  some  stole  unawares 
upon  us,  just  as  on  that  bright  June  evening,  when  we 
did  not  find  our  sisters,  and  aimlessly  followed  others 
to  the  little  shop  where  a  friendly-appearing  elderly 

rH3] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

man  was  cutting  slices  of  meat  and  handing  them  to 
customers.  We  did  not  know  his  name,  nor  did  we 
realize  that  he  was  selling  the  meat  he  handed  out, 
only  that  we  wanted  some.  So,  after  all  the  others  had 
gone,  we  addressed  him,  asking, 

''  Grandpa,  please  give  us  a  little  piece  of  meat.'* 

He  looked  at  us,  and  inquired  whose  children  we 
were,  and  where  we  lived.  Upon  learning,  he  turned 
about,  lifted  a  liver  from  a  wooden  peg  and  cut  for 
each,  a  generous  slice. 

On  our  way  out,  a  neighbor  intercepted  us  and  said 
that  we  should  sleep  at  her  house  that  night  and  see 
our  sisters  in  the  morning.  She  also  gave  us  i^ermis- 
sion  to  cook  our  pieces  of  liver  over  her  bed  of  live 
coals.  Frances  offered  to  cook  them  all  on  her  stick, 
but  Georgia  and  I  insisted  that  it  would  be  fun  for  each 
to  broil  her  own.  I,  being  the  smallest  child,  was  given 
the  shortest  stick,  and  allowed  to  stand  nearest  the 
tire.  Soon  the  three  slices  were  sizzling  and  browning 
from  the  ends  of  three  willow  rods,  and  smelted  so 
good  that  we  could  hardly  wait  for  them  to  be  done. 
Presently,  however,  the  heat  began  to  burn  my  cheeks 
and  also  the  hand  that  held  the  stick.  The  more  I  wig- 
gled about,  the  hotter  the  fire  seemed,  and  it  ended  in 
Frances  having  to  fish  my  piece  of  liver  from  among 
the  coals,  burned  in  patches,  curled  over  bits  of  dying 
embers,  and  pretty  well  covered  with  ashes,  but  she 
knew  how  to  scrape  them  away,  and  my  supper  was 
not  spoiled. 

Our  neighbor  gave  us  breakfast  next  morning  and 

[144] 


A  WEDDING  AT  THE  FORT 

spruced  us  up  a  bit,  then  led  us  to  the  house  where  a 
number  of  persons  had  gathered,  most  of  them  sitting 
at  table  laughing  and  talking,  and  among  them.  Elitlia 
and  Leanna.  Upon  our  entrance,  the  merriment 
ceased  and  all  eyes  were  turned  inquiringly  toward  us. 
Some  one  pointed  to  him  who  sat  beside  our  eldest 
sister  and  gayly  said,  ''  Look  at  your  new  brother/' 
Another  asked,  ^^  How  do  you  like  him  I  ''  We  gazed 
around  in  silent  amazement  until  a  third  continued 
teasingly,  **  She  is  no  longer  Elitha  Donner,  but  Mrs. 
Perry  McCoon.  You  have  lost  your  sister,  for  her 
husband  will  take  her  away  with  him.''  ''  Lost  your 
sister!  "  Those  harrowing  words  stirred  our  pent  feel- 
ings to  anguish  so  keen  that  he  who  had  uttered  them 
in  sport  was  "touched  with  pity  by  the  pain  they  caused. 

Tears  came  also  to  the  child- wife's  eyes  as  she 
clasped  her  arms  about  us  soothingly,  assuring  us  that 
she  was  still  our  sister,  and  would  care  for  us.  Never- 
theless, she  and  her  husband  slipped  away  soon  on 
horseback,  and  we  were  told  that  we  were  to  stay  at 
our  neighbor's  until  they  returned  for  us. 

This  marriage,  which  was  solemnized  by  Alcalde 
John  Sinclair  on  the  fourth  of  June,  1847,  was  ap- 
proved by  the  people  at  the  Fort.  Children  were  anx- 
ious to  play  with  us  because  we  had  ^  *  a  married  sister 
and  a  new  brother."  Women  hurried  through  noon 
chores  to  meet  outside,  and  some  in  their  eagerness 
forgot  to  roll  down  their  sleeves  before  they  began  to 
talk.  One  triumphantly  repeated  to  each  newcomer 
the  motherly  advice  which  she  gave  the  young  couple 

[145] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

when  she  ^*  first  noticed  his  affection  for  that  sorrow- 
ing girl,  who  is  too  pretty  to  be  in  this  new  country 
without  a  protector.''  They  also  recalled  how  Perry 
McCoon  's  launch  had  brought  supplies  up  the  river  for 
the  Second  Relief  to  take  over  the  mountains ;  and  how 
finally,  he  himself  had  carried  to  the  bereaved  daugh- 
ter the  last  accounts  from  Donner  Camp. 

Then  the  speakers  wondered  how  soon  Elitha  would 
be  back.  Would  she  take  us  three  to  live  with  her  on 
that  cattle  ranch  twenty-five  miles  by  bridle  trail  from 
the  Fort?  And  would  peace  and  happiness  come  to 
us  there? 


146] 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

HAPPY  VISITS A  NEW  HOME AM  PER- 
SUADED TO  LEAVE  IT. 

WE  were  still  without  Elitlia,  when  up  the  road 
and  toward  the  Fort  came  a  stout  little  old  wo- 
man in  brown.  On  one  arm  she  carried  a  basket,  and 
from  the  hand  of  the  other  hung  a  small  covered  tin 
pail.  Her  apron  was  almost  as  long  as  her  dress 
skirt,  which  •  reached  below  her  ankles,  yet  was  short 
enough  to  show  brown  stockings  above  her  low  shoes.- 
Two  ends  of  the  bright  kerchief  which  covered  her 
neck  and  crossed  her  bosom  were  pinned  on  opposite 
sides  at  the  waist-line.  A  brown  quilted  hood  of  the 
same  shade  and  material  as  her  dress  and  apron  con- 
cealed all  but  the  white  lace  frill  of  a  ^  ^  grandma  cap, ' ' 
which  fastened  under  her  chin  with  a  bow.  Her  dark 
hair  drawn  down  plain  to  each  temple  was  coiled  there 
into  tiny  wheels,  and  a  brass  pin  stuck  through  cross- 
wise to  hold  each  coil  in  place.  Her  bright,  speak- 
ing eyes,  more  brown  than  gray,  gave  charin  to  a  face: 
which  might  have  been  pretty  had  disease  not  marredi 
it  in  youth.  * 

As  she  drew  near,  her  wonderful  eyes  looked  into; 
our  faces  and  won  from  our  lips  a  timid  **  Good  morn- 
ing, grandma.''  *  J 

That  title,  which  we  had  beien  taught  to  use  when* 

[1471 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

speaking  to  the  aged,  was  new  and  sweet  to  her,  who 
had  never  been  blessed  with  child.  She  set  the  basket 
on  the  ground,  put  the  pail  beside  it,  and  caressed  us 
in  a  cheery  way,  then  let  us  peep  in  and  see  what  she 
had  brought  especially  for  us.  How  did  it  happen? 
That  is  something  we  were  to  learn  later.  Such  lux- 
uries,—  eggs,  bread,  butter,  cheese,  and  milk  in  tlie 
dear  little  tin  pail! 

Seeing  how  thin  and  hungry  we  looked  she  gave  each 
a  piece  of  buttered  bread  before  going  with  us  to  our 
neighbor's  house,  where  she  left  the  food,  with  in- 
structions, in  broken  English,  that  it  was  for  us  three 
little  girls  who  had  called  her  ^^  grandma,''  and  that 
we  must  not  be  given  too  much  at  a  time. 

When  next  grandma  came  she  took  puny  Georgia 
home  with  her,  and  left  me  hugging  the  promise  that  I 
also  should  have  a  visit,  if  I  would  await  my  turn 
patiently. 

Who  can  picture  my  delight  when  Georgia  got  back 
and  told  me  of  all  she  had  seen!  Cows,  horses,  pigs, 
and  chickens,  but  most  thrilling  of  all  was  about  the 
cross  old  sheep,  which  would  not  let  her  pass  if  she 
did  not  carry  a  big  stick  in  sight.  Still,  I  should  not 
have  been  so  eager  to  go,  nor  so  gleeful  on  the  way, 
had  I  known  that  the  **  good-bye  "  kiss  I  gave  my  sis- 
ter Frances  at  parting  that  day,  would  be  the  last  kiss 
in  five  long  years. 

Grandma  was  as  happy  as  I.  She  could  understand 
English  better  than  she  could  speak  it,  and  in  answer- 
ing my  questions,  explained  largely  by  signs.     ^*  Cour- 

[148] 


AT  CHRISTIAN  BRUNNER'S  HOME 

age/'  her  gray  poodle,  left  deep  footprints  in  the  dust, 
as  he  trotted  ahead  over  the  well-known  road,  and  I 
felt  an  increasing  affection  for  him  upon  learning  that 
he,  too,  had  crossed  the  plains  in  an  emigrant  wagon 
and  had  reached  the  Fort  at  about  the  same  time  I  had 
reached  the  snow.  He  was  so  small  that  I  imagined 
he  must  have  been  a  wee  baby  dog  when  he  started, 
and  that  he  was  not  yet  half  grown.  My  surprise 
and  admiration  quickened  beyond  expression  when 
grandma  assured  me  that  he  could  do  many  tricks,  un- 
derstood French  and  German,  and  was  learning* 
English. 

Then  she  laughed,  and  explained  that  he  was  thus 
accomplished  because  she  and  Christian  Brunner,  her 
husband,  and  Jacob,  her  brother-in-law,  had  come  from 
a  place  far  away  across  lands  and  big  waters  where 
most  of  the  people  spoke  both  French  and  German 
and  that  they  had  always  talked  to  Courage  in  one 
or  the  other  of  these  languages. 

As  soon  as  we  got  into  the  house  she  opened  the 
back  door  and  called  **  Jacob!  ''  Then  turning,  she 
took  a  small  cup  of  rennet  clabber  from  the  shelf, 
poured  a  little  cream  over  it,  put  a  spoon  in  it,  and  set 
it  on  the  table  before  me.  While  I  was  eating,  a  pleas- 
ant elderly  man  came  in  and  by  nods,  motions,  and 
words,  partly  English  and  partly  something  else,  con- 
vinced me  that  he  liked  little  girls,  and  was  glad  to 
see  me.  Then  of  a  sudden,  he  clasped  his  hands  about 
my  waist  and  tossed  me  in  the  air  as  father  did  be- 
fore his  hand  was  hurt,  and  when  he  wanted  to  startle 

•    [149] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

-mey  and  then  hear  me  laugh.  This  act,  which  brought 
back  loving  memories,  made  Jacob  seem  nearer  to  me ; 
nearer  still  when  he  told  me  I  must  not  call  him  any- 
thing but  Jakie. 

Everything  about  the  house  was  as  Georgia  had  de- 
scribed. Even  the  big  stick  she  had  used  to  keep  the 
•old  sheep  from  butting  her  over  was  behind  the  door 
where  she  had  left  it. 

When  Christian  Brunner  got  home  from  the  Fort, 
grandma  had  supper  nearly  ready,  and  he  and  I  were 
friends  the  instant  we  looked  into  each  other 's  face ; 
for  he  was  *  ^  grandpa  ' '  who  had  given  us  the  liver  the 
evening  we  did  not  find  our  sisters.  He  had  gone 
home  that  night  and  said :  ^*  Mary,  at  the  Fort  are  three 
.hungry  little  orphan  girls.  Take  them  something  as 
soon  as  you  can.  One  child  is  fair,  two  are  dark.  You 
-will  know  them  by  the  way  they  speak  to  you." 
•  Grandpa  had  now  hastened  home  to  hold  me  on  his 
lap  and  to  hear  me  say  that  I  was  glad  to  be  at  his 
house  and  intended  to  help  grandma  all  I  could  for  be- 
ing so  good  as  to  bring  me  there.  After  I  told  how  we 
had  cooked  the  liver  and  how  good  it  tasted,  he  wiped 
his  eyes  and  said:  *^  Mine  child,  when  you  little  ones 
thanked  me  for  that  liver,  it  made  me  not  so  much  your 
friend  as  when  you  called  me  'grandpa.'  '' 

As  time  went  on,  grandma  declared  that  I  helped 
her  a  great  deal  because  I  kept  her  chip-box  full, 
shooed  the  hens  out  of  the  house,  brought  in  the  eggs, 
and  drove  the  little  chicks  to  bed,  nights.  I  don't  rec- 
ollect that  I  was  ever  tired  or  sleepy,  yet  I  know  that 

[1501 


NOT  A  ''  CRY-BABY  "  CHILD 

the  night  must  have  sped,  between  the  time  of  my  last 
nod  at  the  funny  shadow  picture  of  a  rabbit  which 
Jakie  -made  hop  across  the  wall  behind  the  lighted 
candle,  and  Courage's  barking  near  my  pillow,  which 
grandma  said  meant,  **  Good-morning,  little  girl!  '' 

It  was  after  one  of  these  reminders  of  a  new  day 
that  I  saw  Leanna.  I  don't  know  when  or  how  she 
came,  but  I  missed  Frances  and  Georgia  the  more  be- 
cause I  wanted  them  to  share  our  comforts.  Never- 
theless a  strange  feeling  of  uneasiness  crept  over  me 
as  I  noticed,  later,  that  grandpa  lingered  and  that  the 
three  spoke  long  in  their  own  tongue,  and  glanced 
often  toward  me. 

Finally  grandpa  and  Jakie  went  off  in  the  wagon 
and  grandma  also  disappeared,  but  soon  returned, 
dressed  for  a  trip  to  the  Fort,  and  explained  that  she 
had  heard  that  Georgia  was  sick  and  she  would  take" 
me  back  and  bring  her  in  my  place.  I  had  known  from 
the  beginning  that  I  was  to  stay  only  a  little  while,  yet 
I  was  woefully  disturbed  at  having  my  enjoyment  so 
abruptly  terminated.  My  first  impulse  was  to  cry, 
but  somehow,  the  influence  of  her  who  under  the  sough- 
ing pines  of  the  Sierras  had  told  me  that  **  friends  do 
not  come  quickly  to  a  cry-baby  child  "  gave  me  cour- 
age, and  I  looked  up  into  the  dear  old  face  before  me 
and  with  the  earnestness  of  an  anxious  child  asked, 
**  Grandma,  why  can't  you  keep  two  of  us?  " 

She  looked  at  me,  hesitated,  then  replied,  **  I  will 
see."  She  kissed  away  my  fears  and  rode  off  on  old 
Lisa.    I  did  not  know  that  she  would  ride  farther  than 

[151] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

the  fort  and  imagined  she  had  gone  on  horseback  so 
that  she  might  the  easier  bring  back  my  little  sister. 

Leanna  washed  the  dishes  and  did  the  other  work 
before  she  joined  me  in  watching  for  grandma's  re- 
turn. At  last  she  came  in  sight  and  I  ran  up  the  road 
craning  my  neck  to  see  if  Georgia  were  really  behind 
on  old  Lisa's  back,  and  when  I  saw  her  pinched  face 
aglow  with  smiles  that  were  all  for  me,  I  had  but  one 
wish,  and  that  was  to  get  my  arms  around  her. 

One  chair  was  large  enough  to  hold  us  both  when  we 
got  into  the  house,  and  the  big  clock  on  the  wall  with 
long  weights  reaching  almost  to  the  floor  and  red  roses 
painted  around  its  white  face,  did  not  tick  long  be- 
fore we  were  deaf  to  its  sound,  telling  each  other  about 
the  doings  of  the  day. 

She  knew  more  than  I,  who  listened  intently  as  she 
excitedly  went  on: 

**  Me  and  Frances  started  to  find  you  this  morning, 
but  we  wasn't  far  when  we  met  Jacob  in  the  wagon, 
and  he  stopped  and  asked  us  where  we  was  going.  We 
told  him.  Then  he  told  us  to  get  in  by  him.  But  he 
did  n't  come  this  way,  just  drove  down  to  the  river  and 
some  men  lifted  us  out  and  set  us  in  a  boat  and  com- 
menced to  paddle  across  the  water.  I  knew  that 
wasn't  the  way,  and  I  cried  and  cried  as  loud  as  I 
could  cry,  and  told  them  I  wanted  to  go  to  my  little 
sister  Eliza,  and  that  I  'd  tip  the  boat  over  if  they  did 
not  take  me  back ;  and  one  man  said,  *  It  's  too  bad ! 
It  ain't  right  to  part  the  two  littlest  ones.'  And  they 
told  me  if  I  'd  sit  still  and  stop  crying  they  would 

[152] 


SEPARATION  OF  THE  CHILDREN 

bring-  me  back  with  them  by  and  by,  and  that  I  should 
come  to  you.     And  I  minded. 

*  ^  Then  they  taked  us  to  that  house  where  we  sleeped 
under  the  carpet  the  night  we  didn't  get  to  the  Fort. 
Don't  you  remember?  Well,  lots  of  people  was  there 
and  talked  about  us  and  about  father  and  mother,  and 
waited  for  grandma  to  come.  Pretty  soon  grandma 
come,  and  everybody  talked,  and  talked.  And  grandma 
told  them  she  was  sorry  for  us,  and  would  take  you 
and  me  if  she  could  keep  Leanna  to  help  her  do  the 
work.  When  I  was  coming  away  with  grandma, 
Frances  cried  like  everything.  She  said  she  wanted  to 
see  you,  and  told  the  people  mother  said  we  should  al- 
ways stay  together.  But  they  wouldn't  let  her  come. 
They  've  gived  her  to  somebody  else,  and  now  she  is 
their  little  girL" 

We  both  felt  sorry  for  Frances,  and  wished  we  could 
know  where  she  was  and  what  she  was  doing. 

While  we  were  talking,  grandma  kept  busily  at  work, 
and  sometimes  she  wiped  her  face  with  the  corner  of 
her  apron,  yet  we  did  not  think  of  her  as  listening,  nor 
of  watching  us,  nor  would  we  ever  have  known  it,  had 
we  not  learned  it  later  from  her  own  lips,  as  she  told 
others  the  circumstances  which  had  brought  us  into 
her  life. 

Some  days  later  Georgia  and  I  were  playing  in  the 
back  yard  when  Leanna  appeared  at  the  door  and 
called  out  in  quick,  jubilant  tones:  *^  Children,  run 
around  to  the  front  and  see  who  has  come!  " 

True  enough,  hitched  to  a  stake  near  the  front  door 

[153] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

was  a  bay  horse  with  white  spots  on  his  body  and  a 
white  stripe  down  his  face,  and  tied  to  the  pommel 
of  his  saddle  was  another  horse  with  a  side  saddle  on 
its  back.  It  did  not  take  us  long  to  get  into  the  house 
where  we  found  Elitha  and  our  new  brother,  who  had 
come  to  arrange  about  taking  us  away  with  them. 
While  Elitha  was  talking  to  grandma  and  Leanna, 
Georgia  stood  listening,  but  I  sat  on  my  new  brother's 
knee  and  heard  all  about  his  beautiful  spotted  horse 
and  a  colt  of  the  same  colors. 

Elitha  could  not  persuade  Leanna  or  Georgia  to  go 
with  her,  nor  was  I  inclined  to  do  so  when  she  and 
grandma  first  urged  me.  But  I  began  to  yield  as  the 
former  told  me  she  was  lonesome ;  wanted  at  least  one 
little  sister  to  live  with  her,  and  that  if  I  would  be  that 
one,  I  should  have  a  new  dress  and  a  doll  with  a  face. 
Then '  my  new  brother  settled  the  matter  by  saying  : 
**  Listen  to  me.  If  you  '11  go,  you  shall  have  the  pinto 
colt  that  I  told  you  about,  a  little  side  saddle  of  your 
own,  and  whenever  you  feel  like  it,  you  can  get  on  it 
and  ride  down  to  see  all  the  folks.''  The  prospects 
were  so  alluring  that  I  went  at  once  with  Leanna,  who 
was  to  get  me  ready  for  the  journey. 

Leanna  did  not  share  my  enthusiasm.  She  said  I 
was  a  foolish  little  thing,  and  declared  I  would  get 
lonesome  on  such  a  big  place  so  far  away;  that  the 
colt  would  kick  me  if  I  tried  to  go  near  it,  and  that 
no  one  ever  made  saddles  for  colts.  She  was  not  so 
gentle  as  usual  when  she  combed  my  hair  and  gave 
my  face  a  right  hard  scrubbing  with  a  cloth  and  whey, 


GOING  TO  A  NEW  HOME 

which  grandma  bade  her  use,  ^'  because  it  makes  the 
skin  so  nice  and  soft.'' 

Notwithstanding  these  discouragements,  I  took  my 
clothes,  which  were  tied  up  in  a  colored  handkerchief, 
kissed  them  all  good-bye,  and  rode  away  sitting  behind 
my  new  brother  on  the  spotted  horse,  really  believing 
that  I  should  be  back  in  a  few  days  on  a  visit. 


V  in?  i 


CHAPTER  XIX 


INDIAN   GKUB  FEAST. 


WE  left  the  Fort  and  grandma 's  house  far  behind, 
and  still  rode  on  and  on.  The  day  was  warm, 
the  wild  flowers  were  gone,  and  the  plain  was  yellow 
with  ripening  oats  which  rustled  noisily  as  we  passed 
through,  crowding  and  bumping  their  neighborly  heads 
together.  Yet  it  was  not  a  lonesome  way,  for  we 
passed  elk,  antelope,  and  deer  feeding,  with  pretty 
little  fawns  standing  close  to  their  mothers'  sides. 
There  were  also  sleek  fat  cattle  resting  under  the  shade 
of  live  oak  trees,  and  great  birds  that  soared  around 
overhead  casting  their  shadows  on  the  ground.  As 
we  neared  the  river,  smaller  birds  of  brighter  colors 
could  be  heard  and  seen  in  the  trees  along  the  banks 
where  the  water  flowed  between,  clear  and  cold. 

All  these  things  my  sister  pointed  out  to  me  as  we 
passed  onward.  It  was  almost  dark  before  we  came  in 
sight  of  the  adobe  ranch  house.  We  were  met  on  the 
road  by  a  pack  of  Indian  dogs,  whose  fierce  looks  and 
savage  yelping  made  me  tremble,  until  I  got  into  the 
house  where  they  could  not  follow. 

The  first  weeks  of  my  stay  on  the  ranch  passed 
quickly.     Elitha  and  I  were  together  most  of  the  time. 

[1561 


AN  INDIAN  PLAYMATE 

She  made  my  new  dress  and  a  doll  which  was  perfec- 
tion in  my  eyes,  though  its  face  was  crooked,  and  its 
pencilled  hair  was  more  like  pothooks  than  curls.  I 
did  not  see  much  of  her  husband,  because  in  the  morn- 
ings he  rode  away  early  to  direct  his  Indian  cattle- 
herders  at  the  rodeos,  or  to  oversee  other  ranch  work, 
and  I  was  often  asleep  when  he  returned  nights. 

The  pinto  colt  he  had  promised  me  was,  as  Leanna 
had  said,  ^'  big  enough  to  kick,  but  too  small  to  ride,'' 
and  I  at  once  realized  that  my  anticipated  visits  could 
not  be  made  as  planned. 

Occasionally,  men  came  on  horseback  to  stay  a  day 
or  two,  and  before  the  summer  was  over,  a  young 
couple  with  a  small  baby  moved  into  one  part  of  our 
house.  We  called  them  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Packwood  and 
Baby  Packwood.  The  mother  and  child  were  company 
for  my  sister,  wliile  the  husbands  talked  continually 
of  ranches,  cattle,  hides,  and  tallow,  so  I  was  free  to 
roam  around  by  myself. 

In  one  of  my  wanderings  I  met  a  sprightly  little 
Indian  lad,  whose  face  was  almost  as  white  as  my 
own.  He  was  clad  in  a  blue  and  white  shirt  that 
reached  below  his  knees.  Several  strings  of  beads 
were  around  his  neck,  and  a  small  bow  and  arrow  in 
his  hand.  We  stopped  and  looked  at  each  other ;  were 
pleased,  yet  shy  about  moving  onward  or  speaking.  I, 
lieing  the  larger,  finally  asked, 

''  What  's  your  name?  " 

To  my  great  delight,  he  answered,  **  Name,  Billy." 

Wliile  we  were  slowly  getting  accustomed  to  each 

[1571 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

other,  a  good-natured  elderly  squaw  passed.  She 
wore  a  tattered  petticoat,  and  buttons,  pieces  of  shell, 
and  beads  of  bird  bones  dangled  from  a  string  around 
her  neck.  A  band  of  buckskin  covered  her  forehead 
and  was  attached  to  strips  of  rawhide,  which  held  in 
place  the  water-tight  basket  hanging  down  her  back. 
Billy  now  left  me  for  her,  and  I  followed  the  two  to 
that  part  of  our  yard  where  the  tall  ash-hopper  stood, 
which  ever  after  was  like  a  story  book  to  me. 

The  squaw  set  the  basket  on  the  ground,  reached  up, 
and  carefully  lifted  from  a  board  laid  across  the  top 
of  the  hopper,  several  pans  of  clabbered  milk,  which 
she  poured  into  the  basket.  Instead  of  putting  the 
pans  back,  she  tilted  them  up  against  the  hopper, 
squatted  down  in  front  and  with  her  slim  forefinger, 
scraped  down  the  sides  and  bottom  of  each  pan  so 
that  she  and  Billy  could  scoop  up  and  convey  to  their 
mouths,  by  means  of  their  three  crooked  fingers,  all 
that  had  not  gone  into  the  basket.  Then  she  licked  her 
improvised  spoon  clean  and  dry;  turned  her  back  to 
her  burden;  replaced  the  band  on  her  forehead;  and 
with  the  help  of  her  stick,  slowly  raised  herself  to  her 
feet  and  quietly  walked  away,  Billy  after  her. 

Next  day  I  was  on  watch  early.  My  kind  friend,  the 
choreman,  let  me  go  with  him  when  he  carried  the  \je 
from  the  hopper  to  the  soap  fat  barrel.  Then  he  put 
more  ashes  on  the  hopper  and  set  the  pans  of  milk  in 
place  for  the  evening  call  of  Billy  and  his  companion. 

He  pointed  out  the  rancheria  by  the  river  where  the 
Indian  herders  lived  with  others  of  their  tribe,  among 

r 158  1    . 


PAPOOSES  IN  BICKOOSES 


SUTTER'S  MILL,  WHERE  MARSHALL  DISCOVERED  GOLD, 
JANUARY   19,   1848 


THE  TALES  OF  MR.  CHOREMAN 

them,  Billy  and  liis  mother.  He  also  informed  me  that 
the  squaws  took  turns  in  coming  for  the  milk,  and  that 
Billy  came  as  often  as  he  got  the  chance ;  that  he  was 
a  nice  little  fellow,  who  had  learned  a  few  English 
words  from  his  white  papa,  who  had  gone  off  and  left 
him. 

Billy  and  I  might  never  have  played  together  as  we 
did,  if  my  brother-in-law  had  not  taken  his  wife  to 
San  Francisco  and  left  me  in  the  care  of  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Packwood.  Their  chief  aim  in  life  was  to  please  their 
baby.  She  was  a  dear  little  thing  when  awake,  but 
the  house  had  to  be  kept  very  still  while  she  slept,  and 
they  would  raise  a  hand  and  say,  ^'  Hu-sh!  ''  as  they 
left  me,  and  together  tip-toed  to  the  cradle  to  watch 
her  smile  in  her  sleep.  I  had  their  assurance  that 
they  would  like  to  let  me  hold  her  if  her  little  bones 
were  not  so  soft  that  I  might  break  them. 

They  were  never  unkind  or  cross  to  me.  I  had 
plenty  to  eat,  and  clean  clothes  to  wear,  but  they  did 
not  seem  to  realize  how  I  yearned  for  some  one  to 
love.  So  I  went  to  Mr.  Choreman.  He  told  me  about 
the  antelope  that  raced  across  the  ranch  before  I  was 
up;  of  the  elk,  deer,  bear,  and  buffalo  he  had  shot  in 
his  day;  and  of  beaver,  otter,  and  other  animals  that 
he  had  trapped  along  the  rivers.  Entranced  with  his 
tales  I  became  as  excited  as  he,  while  listening  to  the 
dangers  he  had  escaped. 

One  day  he  showed  me  a  little  chair  which  I  declared 
was  the  cunningest  thing  I  had  ever  seen.  It  had  a 
high,  straight  back,  just  like  those  in  the  house,  only 

[159] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

that  it  was  smaller.  The  seat  was  made  of  strips  of 
rawhide  woven  in  and  out  so  that  it  looked  like  patch- 
work squares.  He  let  me  sit  on  it  and  say  how  beau- 
tiful it  was,  before  telling  me  that  he  had  made  it  all 
for  me.  I  was  so  delighted  that  I  jumped  up,  clasped 
it  in  my  arms  and  looked  at  him  in  silent  admiration. 
I  do  not  believe  that  he  could  understand  how  rich 
and  grateful  I  felt,  although  he  shook  his  head  saying, 
*'  You  are  not  a  bit  happier  than  I  was  while  making- 
it  for  you,  nor  can  you  know  how  much  good  it  does  me 
to  have  you  around.'' 

Gradually,  Billy  spent  more  time  near  the  ranch 
house,  and  learned  many  of  my  kind  of  words,  and  I 
picked  up  some  of  his.  Before  long,  he  discovered 
that  he  could  climb  up  on  the  hopper,  and  then  he 
helped  me  up.  But  I  could  not  crook  my  fingers  into 
as  good  a  spoon  as  he  did  his,  and  he  got  more  milk 
out  of  the  pan  than  I. 

We  did  not  think  any  one  saw  us,  yet  the  next  time 
we  climbed  up,  we  found  two  old  spoons  stuck  in  a 
crack,  in  plain  sight.  After  we  got  through  using 
them,  I  wiped  them  on  my  dress  skirt  and  put  them 
back.  Later,  I  met  Mr.  Choreman,  who  told  me  that 
he  had  put  the  spoons  there  because  I  was  too  nice  a 
little  girl  to  eat  as  Billy  did,  or  to  dip  out  of  the  same 
pan.  I  was  ashamed  and  promised  not  to  do  so  again, 
nor  to  climb  up  there  with  him. 

As  time  passed,  I  watched  wistfully  for  my  sister's 
return,  and  thought  a  great  deal  about  the  folks  at 
grandma's.     I  tried  to  remember  all  that  had  hap- 

ri6oi 


A  MEETING  AND  A  PARTING 

pened  while  I  was  there,  and  felt  sure  they  were 
waiting  for  me  to  pay  the  promised  visit.  A  great 
longing  often  made  me  rush  out  behind  a  large  tree 
near  the  river,  where  no  one  could  see  or  hear  me  feel 
sorry  for  myself,  and  where  I  would  wonder  if  God 
was  taking  care  of  the  others  and  did  not  know  where 
I  lived. 

I  still  feel  the  wondrous  thrill,  and  bid  my  throb- 
bing heart  beat  slower,  when  I  recall  the  joy  that 
tingled  through  every  part  of  my  being  on  that  evening 
when,  unexpectedly,  Leanna  and  Georgia  came  to  the 
door.  Yet,  so  short-lived  was  that  joy  that  the  event 
has  always  seemed  more  like  a  disquieting  dream  than 
a  reality ;  for  they  came  at  night  and  were  gone  in  the 
morning,  and  left  me  sorrowing. 

A  few  months  ago,  I  wrote  to  Georgia  (now  Mrs. 

Babcock),  who  lives  in  the  State  of  Washington,  for 

her  recollections  of  that  brief  reunion,  and  she  replied : 

Before  we  went  to  Sonoma  with  Grandma  Brunner  in  the 
Fall  of  1847,  Leanna  and  I  paid  you  a  visit.  We  reached 
your  home  at  dusk.  Mr.  McCoon  and  Elitha  were  not  there. 
We  were  so  glad  to  meet,  but  our  visit  was  too  short.  You 
and  I  were  given  a  cup  of  bread  and  milk  and  sent  to  bed. 
Leanna  ate  with  the  grown  folks,  who,  upon  learning  that 
we  had  only  come  to  say  good-bye,  told  her  we  must  for  your 
sake  get  away  before  you  awoke  next  morning.  We  arose 
and  got  started  early,  but  had  only  gone  a  short  distance 
when  we  heard  your  pitiful  cry,  begging  us  to  take  you  with 
us.  Leanna  hid  her  face  in  her  apron,  while  a  man  caught 
you  and  carried  you  back.  I  think  she  cried  all  the  way 
home.    It  was  so  hard  to  part  from  you. 

Mr.  Packwood  carried  me  into  the  house,  and  both 
he  and  his  wife  felt  sorry  for  me.     My  head  ached  and 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

the  tears  would  come  as  often  as  any  one  looked  at  me. 
Mrs.  Packwood  wet  a  piece  of  brown  paper,  laid  it  on 
my  forehead,  and  bade  me  lie  on  my  bed  until  I  should 
feel  better.  I  could  not  eat  or  play,  and  even  Mr. 
Choreman's  bright  stories  had  lost  their  charm. 

**  Come  look,  see  squaw,  papoose !  Me  go,  you  go!  '' 
exclaimed  Billy  excitedly  one  soft  gray  morning  after 
I  had  regained  my  spirits.  I  turned  in  the  direction 
he  pointed  and  saw  quite  a  number  of  squaws  trudg- 
ing across  an  open  flat  with  babies  in  bickooses,  and 
larger  children  scampering  along  at  various  paces, 
most  of  them  carrying  baskets. 

"With  Mrs.  Packwood 's  permission,  Billy  and  I  sped 
away  to  join  the  line.  I  had  never  been  granted  such 
a  privilege  before,  and  had  no  idea  what  it  all  meant. 

As  we  approached  the  edge  of  the  marsh,  the 
squaws  walked  more  slowly,  with  their  eyes  fixed  upon 
the  ground.  Every  other  moment  some  of  them  would 
be  down,  digging  in  the  earth  with  forefinger  or  a  little 
stick,  and  I  soon  learned  they  were  gathering  bulbs 
about  a  quarter  of  an  inch  in  thickness  and  as  large 
around  as  the  smaller  end  of  a  woman's  thimble.  I 
had  seen  the  plants  growing  near  the  pond  at  the  fort, 
but  now  the  bulbs  were  ripe,  and  were  being  gathered 
for  winter  use.  In  accordance  with  the  tribal  custom, 
not  a  bulb  was  eaten  during  harvest  time.  They  grew 
so  far  apart  and  were  so  small  that  it  took  a  long  while 
to  make  a  fair  showing  in  the  baskets. 

When  no  more  bulbs  could  be  found,  the  baskets 
were  put  on  the  ground  in  groups,  and  the  mothers 

[162] 


THE  '^  GEUB  FEAST  »' 

carefully  leaned  their  bickooses  against  them  in  such 
positions  that  the  wide  awake  papooses  could  look  out 
from  under  their  shades  and  smile  and  sputter  at  each 
other  in  quaint  Indian  baby-talk;  and  the  sleeping 
could  sleep  on  undisturbed. 

That  done,  the  squaws  built  a  roaring  fire,  and  one 
of  them  untied  a  bundle  of  hardwood  sticks  which  she 

had  brought  for  the  purpose,  and  stuck  them  around 

« 

under  the  fuel  in  touch  with  the  hottest  parts  of  the 
burning  mass.  When  the  ends  glowed  like  long-lasting 
coals,  the  waiting  crowd  snatched  them  from  their  bed 
and  rushed  into  the  low  thicket  which  grew  in  the 
marsh.  I  followed  with  my  fire-brand,  but,  not  knowing 
what  to  do  with  it,  simply  watched  the  Indians  stick 
theirs  into  the  bushes,  sometimes  high  up,  sometimes 
low  down.  I  saw  them  dodge  about,  and  heard  their 
shouts  of  warning  and  their  peals  of  laughter.  Then 
myriads  of  hornets  came  buzzing  and  swarming  about. 
This  frightened  me  so  that  I  ran  back  to  where  the 
brown  babies  were  cooing  in  safety. 

Empty-handed,  but  happy,  they  at  length  returned, 
and  though  I  could  not  understand  anything  they  were 
saying,  their  looks  and  actions  betokened  what  a  good 
time  they  had  had. 

Years  later,  I  described  the  scene  to  Elitha,  who 
assured  me  that  I  had  been  highly  favored  by  those 
Indians  for  they  had  permitted  me  to  witness  their 
annual  *^  Grub  Feast.*'  The  Piutes  always  use  burn- 
ing fagots  to  drive  hornets  and  other  stinging  insects 
from  their  nests,  and  they  also  use  heat  in  opening 

[163] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

the  comb  cells  so  that  they  can  easily  remove  the 
larvae,  which  they  eat  without  further  preparation. 

With  the  first  cold  snaps  of  winter,  my  feet  felt  the 
effect  of  former  frost  bites,  and  I  was  obliged  to  spend 
most  of  my  time  within  doors.  Fortunately  Baby 
Packwood  had  grown  to  be  quite  a  frolicsome  child. 
She  was  fond  of  me,  and  her  bones  had  hardened  so 
that  there  was  no  longer  danger  of  my  breaking  them 
when  I  lifted  her  or  held  her  on  my  lap.  Her  mother 
had  also  discovered  that  I  was  anxious  to  be  helpful, 
pleased  when  given  something  to  do,  and  proud  when 
my  work  was  praised. 

I  was  quite  satisfied  with  my  surroundings,  when, 
unexpectedly,  Mr.  McCoon  brought  my  sister  back,  and 
once  more  we  had  happy  times  together. 


164 


CHAPTER  XX 

I    RETURN    TO    GRANDMA WAR    RUMORS    AT    THE    FORT 

LINGERING  HOPE  THAT  MY  MOTHER  MIGHT  BE  LIVING 

AN  INDIAN  CONVOY THE  BRUNNERS  AND  THEIR  HOME. 

THE  Spring  of  1848  was  at  hand  when  my  brother- 
in-law  said  to  me,  ^  ^  Grandma  Brunner  wants  you 
to  come  back  to  her;  and  if  you  would  like  to  go,  I'll 
take  you  to  the  Fort,  as  soon  as  the  weather  changes, 
and  leave  you  with  the  people  who  are  getting  ready 
to  move  north  and  are  willing  to  take  you  with  them 
to  Sonoma,  where  grandma  now  lives.'' 

The  storm  was  not  over,  but  the  day  was  promising, 
when  my  bundle  of  clothes  was  again  on  the  pommel 
of  the  saddle,  and  I  ready  to  begin  my  journey.  I  was 
so  excited  that  I  could  hardly  get  around  to  say  good- 
bye to  those  who  had  gathered  to  see  me  off.  We  re- 
turned by  the  same  route  that  we  had  followed  out  on 
that  warm  June  day,  but  everything  seemed  different. 
The  catkins  on  the  willows  were  forming  and  the 
■plain  was  green  with  young  grass. 

As  we  neared  the  Fort  we  passed  a  large  camp  of 
fine-looking  Indians  who,  I  was  told,  were  the  friendly 
Walla- Wallas,  that  came  every  spring  to  trade  ponies, 
and  otter,  and  beaver-skins  with  Captain  Sutter  for 
provisions,  blankets,  beads,  gun  caps,  shot,  and  powder. 

[165] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

A  large  emigrant  wagon  stood  near  the  adobe  house 
where  my  new  brother-in-law  drew  rein.  Before  dis- 
mounting, he  reached  back,  took  me  by  the  arm  and 
carefully  supported  me  as  I  slid  from  the  horse  to  the 
ground.  I  was  so  stiff  that  I  could  hardly  stand,  but 
he  led  me  to  the  door  where  we  were  welcomed  by  a 
good-natured  woman,  to  whom  he  said, 

**  Well,  Mrs.  Lennox,  you  see  I  've  brought  the  lit- 
tle girl.  I  don't  think  she  '11  be  much  trouble,  unless 
she  talks  you  to  death. ' ' 

Then  he  told  her  that  I  had,  during  the  ride,  asked 
him  more  questions  than  a  man  six  times  his  size  could 
answer.  But  she  laughed,  and  **  'lowed  "  that  I 
could  n  't  match  either  of  her  three  boys  in  asking  ques- 
tions, and  then  informed  him  that  she  did  not  *^  cal- 
culate on  making  the  move  until  the  roads  be  dryer  and 
the  weather  settled."  She  promised,  however,  that 
I  should  have  good  care  until  I  could  be  handed  over  to 
the  Brunners.  After  a  few  words  with  her  in  private 
Perry  McCoon  bade  me  good-bye,  and  passed  out  of 
my  life  forever. 

I  was  now  again  with  emigrants  who  had  crossed 
the  plains  in  1846,  but  who  had  followed  the  Fort  Hall 
route  and  so  escaped  the  misfortunes  that  befell  the 
Donner  Party. 

Supper  over,  Mrs.  Lennox  made  me  a  bed  on  the 
floor  in  the  far  corner  of  the  room.  I  must  have  fallen 
asleep  as  soon  as  my  head  touched  the  pillow,  for  I  re- 
member nothing  more  until  I  was  awakened  by  voices, 
and  saw  the  candle  still  burning  and  Mrs.  Lennox  and 

[166] 


TERRIFYING  TALES 

two  men  and  a  woman  sitting  near  the  table.  The  man 
speaking  had  a  shrill  voice,  and  his  words  were  so  ter- 
rifying that  I  shook  all  over;  my  hair  felt  as  though  it 
were  trying  to  pull  itself  out  by  its  roots;  a  cold  sweat 
dampened  my  clothes.  I  was  afraid  to  move  or  to 
turn  my  eyes.  Listening,  I  tried  to  remember  how 
many  Indians  he  was  talking  about.  I  knew  it  must 
be  a  great  many,  for  it  was  such  a  long  word.  After 
they  went  away  and  the  house  was  dark,  I  still  seemed 
to  see  his  excited  manner  and  to  hear  him  say : 

''  Mrs.  Lennox,  we  We  got  to  get  out  of  here  right 
away,  for  I  heard  tell  at  the  store  before  I  come  up 
that  there  's  bound  to  be  an  Injun  outbreak.  Them 
savages  from  Sonora  are  already  on  their  way  up, 
and  they  '11  kill  and  scalp  every  man,  woman,  and 
child  they  can  ketch,  and  there  's  nothing  to  keep  them 
from  ketching  us,  if  we  stay  at  this  here  little  fort  any 
longer. ' ' 

I  lay  awake  a  long  while.  I  did  not  dare  call  out  be- 
cause I  imagined  some  of  those  Indians  might  have  got 
ahead  of  the  rest  and  be  sneaking  up  to  our  house  at 
that  very  moment.  I  wondered  where  I  could  hide  if 
they  should  climb  through  the  window,  and  I  felt  that 
Georgia  would  never  know  what  had  become  of  me, 
if  they  should  kill  and  scalp  me. 

As  soon  as  Mrs.  Lennox  stirred  in  the  morning,  I 
ran  to  her  and  had  a  good  cry.  She  threatened  all 
sorts  of  things  for  the  man  who  had  caused  me  such 
torture,  and  declared  that  he  believed  everything  he 
heard.     He  did  not  seem  to  remember  how  many  hun- 

[167] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

dred  miles  away  Sonora  was,  nor  how  many  loaded 
cannon  there  were  at  the  Fort.  I  felt  better  satisfied, 
however,  when  she  told  me  that  she  had  made  up  her 
mind  to  start  for  Sonoma  the  next  day. 

After  breakfast  her  younger  boys  wanted  to  see  the 
Walla- Wallas,  and  took  me  along.  A  cold  breath  from 
the  Sierra  Nevadas  made  me  look  up  and  shiver.  Soon 
Captains  Sutter  and  Kern  passed  us,  the  former  on  his 
favorite  white  horse,  and  the  latter  on  a  dark  bay.  I 
was  delighted  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  those  two  good 
friends,  but  they  did  not  know  it.  They  had  been  to 
see  the  Indian  ponies,  and  before  we  got  to  the  big 
gate,  they  had  gone  in  and  the  Walla- Wallas  were 
forming  in  line  on  both  sides  of  the  road  between  the 
gate  and  the  front  of  the  store. 

Only  two  Indians  at  a  time  were  allowed  to  enter  the 
building,  and  as  they  were  slow  in  making  their  trades, 
we  had  a  good  chance  to  see  them  all.  The  men,  the 
boys,  and  most  of  the  women  were  dressed  in  fringed 
buckskin  suits  and  their  hands  and  faces  were  painted 
red,  as  the  Sioux  warriors  of  Fort  Laramie  painted 
their  cheeks. 

The  Lennox  boys  took  greatest  interest  in  the  little 
fellows  with  the  bows  and  arrows,  but  I  could  not  keep 
my  eyes  from  the  young  princess,  who  stood  beside  her 
father,  the  chief.  She  was  all  shimmering  with  beads. 
They  formed  flowers  on  her  moccasins;  fringed  the 
outer  seams  of  her  doeskin  trousers  and  the  liem  of 
her  tunic;  formed  a  stripe  around  her  arm  holes  and 
her  belt;  glittered  on  a  band  which  held  in  place  the 

[1681 


KINDNESS  OF  MES.  GRAYSON 

eagle  plume  in  her  hair;  dangled  from  her  ears;  and 
encircled  her  neck  and  arms.  Yet  she  did  not  seem 
to  wear  one  too  many.  She  looked  so  winsome  and 
picturesque  that  I  have  never  forgotten  the  laughing, 
I^retty  picture. 

We  started  back  over  ground  where  my  little  sisters 
and  I  had  wandered  the  previous  Spring.  The  people 
whom  I  remembered  had  since  gone  to  other  settle- 
ments, and  strangers  lived  in  the  old  huts.  I  could 
not  help  looking  in  as  we  passed,  for  I  still  felt  that 
mother  might  not  be  dead.  She  might  have  come 
down  the  mountain  alone  and  perhaps  I  could  fi7id  her. 
The  boys,  not  knowing  why  I  lagged  behind,  tried  to 
hurry  me  along ;  and  finally  left  me  to  go  home  by  my- 
self. This,  not  from  unkindness,  but  rather  love  of 
teasing,  and  also  oblivion  of  the  vain  hope  I  cherished. 

Mrs.  Lennox  let  me  dry  the  dishes  for  her  after 
the  noon  meal,  then  sent  me  to  visit  the  neighbor  in  the 
next  house,  while  she  should  stow  her  things  in  the 
wagon  and  get  ready  for  the  journey.  I  loved  this 
lady  *  in  the  next  house  as  soon  as  she  spoke  to  me, 
and  I  was  delighted  with  her  baby,  who  reached  out  his 
little  arms  to  have  me  take  him,  and  raised  his  head 
for  me  to  kiss  his  lips.  While  he  slept,  his  mother 
sewed  and  talked  with  me.  She  had  known  my  par- 
ents on  the  plains,  and  now  let  me  sit  at  her  feet,  giv- 
ing me  her  workbox,  that  I  might  look  at  its  bobbins  of 
different-colored  thread  and  the  pretty  needle-book. 
When  I  told  her  that  the  things  looked  a  little  like 

*Mrs.  Andrew  J.  Grayson,  wife  of  the  well-known  ornithologist, 
frequently  referred  to  as  the  "  Audubon  of  the  West." 

[169] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

mother's  and  that  sometimes  mother  let  me  take  the 
tiniest  bit  of  her  wax,  she  gave  me  permission  to  take 
a  tiny  taste  of  that  which  I  held  in  my  hand  to  see  if 
it  was  like  that  which  I  remembered. 

Only  she,  the  baby,  and  I  sat  down  to  tea,  yet  she 
said  that  she  was  glad  she  had  company,  for  baby's 
papa  was  away  with  Captain  Fremont,  and  she  was 
lonesome. 

After  I  learned  that  she  would  have  to  stay  until 
he  came  back,  I  was  troubled,  and  told  what  I  had 
heard  in  the  night.  She  assured  me  that  those  in 
charge  of  the  Fort  heard  every  day  all  that  was  going 
on  for  miles  and  miles  around,  and  that  if  they  should 
learn  that  fighting  Indians  were  coming,  they  would 
take  all  the  white  people  and  the  good  Indians  into  the 
fort,  and  then  shoot  the  bad  ones  with  the  cannon  that 
peeped  through  its  embrasures. 

The  dainty  meal  and  her  motherly  talk  kept  me  a 
happy  child  until  I  heard  the  footsteps  of  the  Lennox 
boys.  I  knew  they  were  coming  for  me,  and  that  I 
should  have  to  sleep  in  that  dark  room  where  I  had 
been  so  afraid.  Quickly  slipping  from  my  chair,  under 
the  table,  and  hiding  behind  my  new  friend's  dress 
skirt,  I  begged  her  not  to  let  them  know  where  I  was, 
and  please,  to  let  me  stay  with  her  all  night.  I  listened 
as  she  sent  the  boys  back  to  tell  their  mother  that  she 
would  keep  me  until  morning,  adding  that  she  would 
step  in  and  explain  matters  after  she  put  her  baby  to 
bed.  Before  I  went  to  sleep  she  heard  me  say  my 
prayers  and  kissed  me  good-night. 

[170] 


ENCAMPED  BY  THE  RIVER 

When  I  awoke  next  morning,  I  was  not  in  her  house, 
but  in  Mrs.  Lennox's  wagon,  on  the  way  to  Sonoma. 

The  distance  between  the  Fort  and  Sonoma  was  only 
about  eighty  miles,  yet  the  heavy  roads  and  the  fre- 
quent showers  kept  us  on  the  journey  more  than  a 
week.  It  was  .still  drizzling  when  we  reached  the  town 
and  Mrs.  Lennox  learned  where  the  Brunners  lived. 
I  had  been  told  that  they  would  be  looking  for  me, 
and  I  expected  to  go  to  them  at  once. 

As  we  approached  the  west  bank  of  the  creek,  which 
winds  south  past  the  town,  we  could  see  the  branches 
on  the  trees  in  grandma's  dooryard  swaying.  Yet  we 
could  not  reach  there,  because  a  heavy  mountain  storm 
had  turned  a  torrent  into  the  creek  channel,  washed 
away  the  foot  bridge,  and  overflowed  the  low  land. 
Disappointed,  we  encamped  on  high  ground  to  wait  for 
the  waters  to  recede. 

Toward  evening,  Jakie  gathering  his  cows  on  the  op- 
posite side,  noticed  our  emigrant  wagon,  and  oxen,  and 
as  he  drew  nearer  recognized  Mrs.  Lennox.  Both  sig- 
nalled from  where  they  stood,  and  soon  he  descried 
me,  anxious  to  go  to  him.  He,  also,  was  disappointed 
at  the  enforced  delay,  and  returned  often  to  cheer  us, 
and  to  note  the  height  of  the  water.  It  seemed  to  me 
that  we  had  been  there  days  and  days,  when  a  Mission 
Indian  on  a  gray  pony  happened  to  come  our  way, 
and  upon  learning  what  was  wanted,  signalled  that 
he  would  carry  me  over  for  a  Mexican  silver  dollar. 
Jakie  immediately  drew  the  coin  from  his  pocket  and 
held  it  between  thumb  and  forefinger,  high  above  his 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTl^ 

head  in  the  sunshine,  to  show  the  native  that  his  price 
would  be  paid. 

Quickly  the  Indian  dismounted,  looked  his  pony  over 
carefully,  cinched  the  blanket  on  tighter,  led  him  to  the 
water's  edge,  and  turned  to  me.  I  shuddered,  and 
when  all  was  ready,  drew  near  the  deep  flowing  current 
tremblingly,  yet  did  not  hesitate;  for  my  loved  ones 
were  beyond,  and  to  reach  them  I  was  willing  to 
venture. 

The  Indian  mounted  and  I  was  placed  behind  him. 
By  sign,  he  warned  me  not  to  loosen  my  hold,  lest  I, 
like  the  passing  branches,  should  become  the  water's 
prey.  With  my  arms  clasped  tightly  about  his  dusky 
form,  and  his  elbows  clamped  over  them,  we  entered 
the  stream.  I  saw  the  water  surge  up  around  us,  felt 
it  splash  over  me!  Oh,  how  cold  it  was!  I  held  my 
breath  as  we  reached  the  deepest  part,  and  in  dread 
clung  closer  to  the  form  before  me.  We  were  going 
down  stream,  drifting  past  where  Jakie  stood!  How 
could  I  know  that  we  were  heading  for  the  safe  slope 
up  the  bank  where  we  landed? 

The  Indian  took  his  dollar  with  a  grunt  of  satis- 
faction, and  Jakie  bade  me  wave  to  the  friends  I  had 
left  behind,  as  he  put  me  on  old  Lisa's  back  and  hur- 
ried off  to  grandma,  Leanna,  and  Georgia,  waiting  at 
the  gate  to  welcome  me  home. 

Georgia  had  a  number  of  patches  of  calico  and  other 
trinkets  which  she  had  collected  for  me,  and  offered 
them  as  soon  as  we  had  exchanged  greetings,  then 
eagerly  conducted  me  about  the  place. 

[172] 


THE  BRUNNER  FAMILY 

Grandma  was  more  energetic  and  busier  than  at  the 
Fort,  and  I  could  only  talk  with  her  as  she  worked,  but 
there  was  so  much  to  see  and  hear  that  before  night- 
fall my  feet  were  heavy  and  my  brain  was  weary. 
However,  a  good  sleep  under  the  roof  of  those  whom  I 
loved  was  all  the  tonic  I  needed  to  prepare  me  for  a 
fair  start  in  the  new  career,  and  grandma  ^s  assurance, 
"  This  be  your  home  so  long  as  you  be  good,'^  filled 
me  with  such  gladness  that,  childlike,  I  promised  to 
be  good  always  and  to  do  everything  that  should  be 
required  of  me. 

Most  of  the  emigrants  in  and  around  the  Pueblo  of 
Sonoma  were  Americans  from  the  western  frontiers  of 
the  United  States.  They  had  reached  the  province  in 
the  Summer  or  early  Autumn  of  1846,  and  for  safety 
had  settled  near  this  United  States  Army  post.  Here 
they  had  bought  land  and  made  homes  within  neigh- 
boring distance  of  each  other  and  begun  life  anew  in 
simple,  happy,  pioneer  fashion.  The  Brunners  were 
a  different  type.  They  had  immigrated  from  Switzer- 
land and  settled  in  New  Orleans,  Louisiana,  when 
young,  and  by  toil  and  economy  had  saved  the  snug- 
sum  of  money  which  they  brought  to  invest  in  Cal- 
ifornia enterprises. 

They  could  speak  and  read  French  and  German,  and 
had  some  knowledge  of  figures.  Being  skilled  in  tbe 
preparation  of  all  the  delicacies  of  the  meat  market, 
and  the  products  of  the  dairy,  they  had  brought  across 
the  plains  the  necessary  equipment  for  both  branches 
of  business,  and  had  already  established  a  butcher  shop 

[  173  ] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PAETY 

in  the  town  and  a  dairy  on  the  farm,  less  than  a  mile 
from  it. 

Jakie  was  busy  and  useful  at  both  places,  but 
grandpa  was  owner  of  the  shop,  and  grandma  of  the 
dairy.  Her  hand  had  the  cunning  of  the  Swiss  cheese- 
maker,  and  the  deftness  of  the  artist  in  butter  mould- 
ing. She  was  also  an  experienced  cook,  and  had  many 
household  commodities  usually  unknown  to  pioneer 
homes.  They  were  thus  eminently  fitted  for  life  in  a 
crude  new  settlement,  and  occupied  an  important  place 
in  the  community. 

A  public  road  cut  their  land  into  two  unequal  parts. 
The  cattle  corrals  and  sheds  were  grouped  on  one  side 
of  the  road,  and  the  family  accommodations  on  the 
other.  Three  magnificent  oaks  and  a  weird,  blackened 
tree-trunk  added  picturesqueness  to  the  ground  upon 
which  the  log  cabin  and  outbuildings  stood.  The  trim 
live  oak  shaded  the  adobe  milk-room  and  smoke-house, 
while  the  grand  old  white  oak  spread  its  far-reaching- 
boughs  over  the  curbed  well  and  front  dooryard. 

The  log  cabin  was  a  substantial  three-roomed  struc- 
ture. Its  two  outer  doors  opened  with  latch  strings 
and  were  sawed  across  just  above  the  middle,  so  that 
the  lower  sections  might  be  kept  closed  against  the 
straying  pigs  and  fowls,  while  the  upper  part  remained 
open  to  help  the  windows  opposite  give  light  and  ven- 
tilation. The  east  end  formed  the  ample  store-room 
with  shelves  for  many  stages  of  ripening  cheese.  The 
west  end  served  as  sleeping  apartment  for  all  except 
Jakie.    The  large  middle  room  was  set  apart  as  kitchen 

[174] 


THE  HOUSE  AND  DOORYARD 

and  general  living  room.  Against  its  wall  were  braced 
the  dear  old  clock  and  conveniences  for  holding  dishes, 
and  the  few  keepsakes  which  had  shared  the  wander- 
ings of  their  owners  on  two  continents. 

The  adobe  chimney,  which  formed  part  of  the  parti- 
tion between  the  living  and  the  sleeping  apartment, 
gave  a  huge  fireplace  to  each.  From  the  side  of  the 
one  that  cheered  the  living  room,  swung  a  crane 
worthy  of  the  great  copper  cheese  kettle  that  hung  on 
its  arm.  In  tidy  rows  on  the  chimney  shelf  stood  bot- 
tles and  boxes  of  medicine,  two  small  brass  kettles,  and 
six  bright  candlesticks  with  hoods,  trays,  and  snuffers 
to  match.  On  the  wide  hearth  beneath  were  ranged, 
the  old-fashioned  three-legged  iron  pots,  dominated  by 
the  large  round  one,  used  as  a  bake  oven.  Hovering 
over  the  fire  sat  the  iron  tea-kettle,  with  its  slender 
throat  and  pointed  lips,  now  warmed  to  song  by  the 
blazing,  logs,  now  rattling  its  lid  with  increasing  fervor. 

A  long  table  with  rough  redwood  benches  around  it, 
a  few  straight-backed  chairs  against  the  wall,  and 
Jakie's  half-concealed  bed,  in  the  far  corner,  consti-' 
tuted  the  visible  furnishings  of  this  memorable  room, 
which  was  so  spick  and  span  in  German  order  and 
cleanliness,  that  even  its  clay  floor  had  to  be  sprinkled 
in  regular  spots  and  rings  before  being  swept. 

It  was  under  the  great  oaks  that  most  of  the  morn- 
ing work  was  done.  There  the  pails  and  pans  were 
washed  and  sunned,  the  meats  chopped,  the  sausage' 
made,  head-cheese  moulded,  ham  and  bacon  salted,- 
and  the  lard  tried  out  over  the  out-door  fires.     Among 

[175]' 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

those  busy  scenes,  Georgia  and  I  spent  many  happy 
hours,  and  learned  some  of  our  hardest  lessons ;  for  to 
us  were  assigned  regular  tasks,  and  we  were  also  ex- 
pected to  do  the  countless  little  errands  which  save 
steps  to  grown  people,  and  are  supposed  not  to  tire  the 
feet  of  children. 

Grandma,  stimulated  by  the  success  of  her  mixing 
and  moulding,  and  elated  by  the  profit  she  saw  in  it, 
was  often  too  happy  and  bustling  to  remember  how 
young  we  were,  or  that  we  got  tired,  or  had  worries 
of  our  own  to  bear. 

Our  small  troubles,  however,  were  soon  forgotten, 
when  we  could  slip  away  for  a  while  to  the  lovely 
playhouse  which  Leanna  had  secretly  made  for  us  in 
an  excavation  in  the  back  yard.  There  we  forgot  work, 
used  our  own  language,  and  played  we  were  like  other 
children ;  for  we  owned  the  beautiful  cupboard  dug  in 
the  wall,  and  the  pieces  of  Delft  and  broken  glass  set 
in  rows  upon  the  shelves,  also  the  furniture,  made  of 
stumps  and  blocks  of  wood,  and  the  two  bottles  stand- 
ing behind  the  brush  barricade  to  act  as  sentries  in  case 
of  danger  during  our  absence. 

One  stolen  visit  to  that  playhouse  led  me  into  such 
disgrace,  that  grandma  did  not  speak  to  me  the  rest  of 
the  day,  and  told  Jakie  all  about  it: 

In  the  evening,  when  no  one  else  was  near,  he  called 
me  to  him.  I  obeyed  with  downcast  head.  Putting 
his  hand  under  my  chin,  and  turning  my  face  up,  he 
made  me  look  straight  into  his  eyes,  as  he  asked, 

^'  Who  broke  dat  glass  cup  vat  grandma  left  on  die 

r  176 1 


JAKIE  TEACHES  A  LESSON 

dinner  table  full  of  milk,  and  telled  you  watch  it  bis 
Hendrik  come  to  his  dinner,  or  bis  she  be  done  mit  her 
nap?  '' 

I  tried  to  turn  my  eyes  down,  but  he  would  not  let 
me,  and  I  faltered,  ^ '  The  chicken  knocked  it  off, —  but 
he  left  the  door  open  so  it  could  get  in. ' ' 

Then,  he  raised  his  other  hand,  shook  his  finger,  and 
in  awe-inspiring  tone  continued:  ^^  Yes,  I  be  sure  die 
chicken  do  dat,  but  vot  for  you  tell  grandma  dat  Hein- 
rick  do  dat  I  Der  debil  makes  peoples  tell  lies,  and  den 
he  ketch  sie  for  his  fire,  und  he  vill  ketch  you,  if  you  do 
dat  some  more.  Gott,  who  you  mutter  telled  you  'bout, 
will  not  love  you.  I  will  not  love  you,  if  you  do  dat 
some  more.  I  be  sorry  for  you,  because  I  tought  you 
vas  His  little  girl,  and  mine  little  girl. ' ' 

Jakie  must  have  spent  much  time  in  collecting  so 
many  English  words,  and  they  were  effective,  for  be- 
fore he  got  through  repeating  them  to  me,  I  was  as 
heart-sore  and  penitent  as  a  child  could  be. 

After  he  had  forgiven  me,  he  sent  me  to  grandma, 
later  to  acknowledge  my  wrong  to  Hendrik,  and  before 
I  slept,  I  had  to  tell  God  what  a  bad  child  I  had  been, 
and  ask  Him  to  make  me  good. 

I  had  promised  to  be  very  careful  and  to  try  never 
to  tell  another  lie,  and  I  had  been  unhappy  enough  to 
want  to  keep  the  promise.  But,  alas,  my  sympathy  for 
Jakie  led  me  into  more  trouble,  and  it  must  have  been 
on  Sunday  too,  for  he  was  not  working,  but  sitting 
reverently  under  the  tree  with  his  elbows  upon  a  table, 
and  his  cheeks  resting  in  the  hollows  of  his  hands.     Be- 

[177] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

fore  him  lay  the  Holy  Scriptures  from  which  he  was 
slowly  reading  aloud  in  solemn  tones. 

Georgia  and  I  standing  a  short  distance  from  him, 
listened  very  intently.  Not  hearing  a  single  English 
:Word,  and  not  understanding  many  of  the  German,  I 
became  deeply  concerned  and  turning  to  her  asked, 

*  *  Are  n  't  you  awful  sorry  for  poor  Jakie  I  There  he 
is,  reading  to  God  in  German,  and  God  can't  under- 
stand him.  I  'm  afraid  Jakie  won't  go  to  heaven  when 
he  dies.'' 

My  wifee  little  sister  turned  upon  me  indignantly,  as- 
suring me  that  ' '  God  sees  everybody  and  understands 
everybody's  talk."  To  prove  the  truth  of  her  state- 
ment, she  rushed  to  the  kitchen  and  appealed  to 
grandma,  who  not  only  confirmed  Georgia 's  words,  but 
asked  me  what  right  I  had  to  believe  that  God  was 
American  only,  and  could  not  understand  good  German 
people  when  they  read  and  spoke  to  Him  ?  She  wanted 
to  know  if  I  was  not  ashamed  to  think  that  they,  who 
had  loved  me,  and  been  kind  to*  me  would  not  go  to 
Heaven  as  well  as  I  who  had  come  to  them  a  beggar! 
Then  she  sent  me  away  by  myself  to  think  of  my  many 
sins ;  and  I,  weeping,  accepted  banishment  from  Geor- 
gia, lest  she  should  learn  wickedness  from  me. 

Georgia  was  greatly  disturbed  on  my  account,  be- 
cause she  believed  I  had  wilfully  misrepresented  God, 
and  that  He  might  not  forgive  me.  When  Jakie 
learned  what  had  happened,  he  declared  that  I  had 
spoken  like  a  child,  and  needed  instruction  more  than 
punishment.     So  for  the  purpose  of  broadening  my  re- 

[178] 


KEEPSAKES  FROM  MOTHER 

ligious  views,  and  keeping  before  me  the  fact  tliat 
''  God  can  do  all  things  and  knows  all  languages," 
grandma  taught  me  the  Lord's  Prayer  in  French  and 
German,  and  heard  me  repeat  it  each  night  in  both 
languages,  -after  I  had  said  it  as  taught  me  by  my 
mother. 

It  was  about  this  time,  that  Leanna  confided  to  me 
that  she  was  homesick  for  Elitha,  and  she  would  go  to 
her  very  soon.  She  said  that  I  must  not  object  when 
the  time  came,  for  she  loved  her  own  sister  just  as 
much  as  I  did  mine,  and  was  as  anxious  to  go  to  Elitha 
as  I  had  been  to  come  to  Georgia.  She  had  been  plan- 
ning several  weeks,  and  knew  of  a  family  with  which 
she  could  travel  to  Sutter's  Fort.  Later,  when  she  col- 
lected her  things  to  go  away,  she  left  with  us  a  pair  of 
beautifully  knit  black  silk  stockings,  marked  near  the 
top  in  fine  cross-stitch  in  white,  ''  D,"  and  under  that 
**  5."  The  stockings  had  been  our  mother's.  She  had 
knit  them  herself  and  worn  them.  Georgia  gave  one 
to  me  and  kept  the  other.  We  both  felt  that  they  were 
almost  too  sacred  to  handle.  They  were  our  only 
keepsakes. 

Later,  Georgia  found  a  small  tin  box  in  which  mother 
had  kept  important  papers.  Recently,  when  referring 
to  that  circumstance,  Georgia  said:  ^'Grandma  for  a 
long  time  had  used  it  for  a  white-sugar  box,  and  kept 
it  on  a  shelf  so  high  that  we  could  see  it  only  when  she 
lifted  it  down ;  and  I  don 't  think  we  took  our  eyes  from 
it  until  it  was  put  back.  We  felt  that  it  was  too  valu- 
able for  us  ever  to  own.     One  day,  I  found  it  thrown 

11791 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

away.  One  side  had  become  unsoldered  from  the  ends 
and  the  bottom  also  was  hanging  loose.  With  a  full 
heart,  I  grasped  the  treasure  and  put  it  where  we  could 
often  see  it.  Long  afterwards,  Harry  Huff  kindly  of- 
fered to  repair  it ;  and  the  solder  that  still  holds  it  to- 
gether is  also  regarded  as  a  keepsake  from  a  dear 
friend.  * ' 


[180] 


CHAPTER  XXI 

MORAL   DISCIPLINE THE    HISTORICAL   PUEBLO   OF    SONOMA 

SUGAR  PLUMS. 

GEANDMA  often  declared  that  she  loved  me,  and 
did  not  want  to  be  too  severe ;  but,  for  fear  that 
I  had  learned  much  wickedness  from  the  little  Indians 
with  whom  I  had  played  after  I  left  her  at  the  Fort,  she 
should  watch  me  very  closely  herself,  and  also  have 
Georgia  tell  her  whenever  she  should  see  me  do  wrong. 
Consequently,  for  a  while  after  I  reached  Sonoma,  I 
was  frequently  on  the  penitential  bench,  and  was  as 
often  punished  for  fancied  misdoings  as  for  real  ones. 
Yet,  I  grant  that  grandma  was  warranted  in  being  se- 
vere the  day  that  she  got  back  from  town  before  I  was 
ready  for  her. 

She  had  left  us  with  the  promise  that  she  would 
bring  us  something  nice  if  we  would  be  good  children 
and  do  certain  work  that  she  had  planned.  After  we 
had  finished  the  task,  we  both  became  restless,  won- 
dered how  soon  she  would  come  back,  and  what  we 
could  do  next  to  keep  from  being  lonesome.  Then  I 
espied  on  the  upper  shelf  the  cream-colored  sugar  bowl, 
with  the  old-fashioned  red  roses  and  black  foliage  on 
its  cover  and  sides.     Grandma  had  occasionally  given 

[181] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

us  lumps  of  sugar  out  of  it ;  and  I  now  asked  Georgia 
if  I  hadn't  better  get  it  down,  so  that  we  could  each 
have  a  lump  of  sugar.  Hesitatingly,  she  said,  ^'  No, 
I  am  afraid  you  will  break  it."  I  assured  her  that  I 
would  be  very  careful,  and  at  once  set  a  chair  in  place 
and  climbed  up.  It  was  quite  a  strain  to  reach  the 
bowl,  so  I  lifted  it  down  and  rested  it  on  the  lower 
shelf,  expecting  to  turn  and  put  it  into  Georgia's  hands. 
But,  somehow,  before  I  could  do  this,  the  lid  slipped 
off  and  lay  in  two  pieces  upon  the  floor.  Georgia  cried 
out  reproachfully, 

""  There,  you  know  I  didn't  want  you  to  do  it,  and 
now  you  will  get  a  good  whipping  for  breaking  grand- 
ma's best  sugar  bowl!  " 

I  replied  loftily  that  I  was  not  afraid,  because  I 
would  ask  God  to  mend  it  for  me.  She  did  not  think 
He  would  do  it,  but  I  did.  So  I  matched  the  broken 
edges  and  put  it  on  the  chair,  knelt  down  before  it  and 
said  '*  Please  "  when  I  made  my  request.  I  touched 
the  pieces  very  carefully,  and  pleaded  more  earnestly 
each  time  that  I  found  them  unchanged.  Finally, 
Georgia,  watching  at  the  door,  said  excitedly,  "  Here 
comes  grandma!  " 

I  arose,  so  disappointed  and  chagrined  that  I 
scarcely  heard  her  as  she  entered  and  spoke  to  me.  I 
fully  believed  that  He  would  have  mended  that  cover 
if  she  had  remained  away  a  little  longer ;  nevertheless, 
I  was  so  indignant  at  Him  for  being  so  slow  about  it, 
that  I  stood  unabashed  while  Georgia  told  all  that  had 
happened.     The  whipping  I  got  did  not  make  much  im- 

[182] 


PUNISHMENT  AND  SUFFERING 

pression,  but  the  after  talks  and  the  banishment  from 
* '  good  company  ' '  were  terrible. 

Later,  when  I  was  called  from  my  hiding-place, 
grandma  saw  that  I  had  been  very  miserable,  and  she 
insisted  upon  knowing  what  I  had  been  thinking  about. 
Then  I  told  her,  reluctantly,  that  I  had  talked  to  God 
and  told  Him  I  did  not  think  that  He  was  a  very  good 
Heavenly  Father,  or  He  would  not  let  me  get  into  so 
much  trouble;  that  I  was  mad  at  Him,  and  didn't  be- 
lieve He  knew  how  to  mend  dishes.  She  covered  her 
face  with  her  apron  and  told  me,  sobbingly,  that  she 
had  expected  me  to  be  sorry  for  getting  down  her  sugar 
bowl  and  for  breaking  its  cover ;  that  I  was  so  bad  that 
I  would  *^  surely  put  poor  old  grandma  !s  gray  hair  in 
her  grave,  who  had  got  one  foot  there  already  and  the 
other  on  the  brink." 

This  increased  my  wretchedness,  and  I  begged  her  to 
live  just  a  little  longer  so  that  I  might  show  her  that  I 
would  be  good.  She  agreed  to  give  me  another  trial 
and  ended 'by  telling  me  about  the  ^'  beautiful,  wicked 
angel  who  had  been  driven  out  of  paradise,  and  spends 
his  time  coaxing  people  to  be  bad,  and  then  remembers 
them,  and  after  they  die,  takes  them  on  his  fork  and 
pitches  them  back  and  forth  in  his  fire.''  Jakie  had 
told  me  his  name  and  also  the  name  of  his  home. 

Toward  evening,  my  head  ached,  and  I  felt  so  ill  that 
I  crept  close  to  grandma  and  asked  sorrowfully  if  she 
thought  the  devil  meant  to  have  me  die  that  night,  and 
then  take  me  to  his  hell.  At  a  glance,  she  saw  that  I 
suffered,  and  drew  me  to  her,  pillowed  my  head  against 

[183] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

her  bosom  and  soothingly  assured  me  that  I  would  be 
forgiven  if  I  would  make  friends  with  God  and  re- 
member the  lesson  that  I  had  learned  that  day.  She 
told  me,  later,  I  must  never  say  ^^  devil, '*  or  **  hell,'' 
because  it  was  not  nice  in  little  girls,  but  that,  instead, 
I  might  use  the  words,  ^^blackman,"  and  ^^blackman's 
fires.''  At  first,  I  did  not  like  to  say  it  that  way,  be- 
cause I  was  afraid  that  the  beautiful  devil  might  think 
that  I  was  calling  him  nicknames  and  get  angry  with 
me. 

Notwithstanding  my  shortcomings,  the  Brumiers 
were  very  willing  to  keep  me,  and  strove  to  make  a 
*^  Schweitzer  child  "  of  me,  dressed  me  in  clothes 
modelled  aftex  those  which  grandma  wore  when  she 
was  small,  aiid  by  verse  and  legend  filled  my  thoughts 
with  pictures  of  their  Alpine  country.  I  liked  the 
German  language,  learned  it  rapidly  and  soon  could 
help  to  translate  orders.  Those  which  pleased 
grandma  best  were  from  the  homes  of  Mr.  Jacob 
Leese,  Captain  Fitch,  Major  Prudon,  and  General  Val- 
lejo ;  for  their  patronage  influenced  other  distinguished 
Spanish  families  at  a  distance  to  send  for  her  excel- 
lent cheese  and  fancy  pats  of  butter.  Yet,  with  equal 
nicety,  she  filled  the  orders  that  came  from  the  mess- 
room  of  the  officers  of  our  own  brave  boys  in  blue, 
and  always  tried  to  have  a  better  kerchief  and  apron 
on,  the  evenings  that  officers  and  orderly  rode  out  to 
pay  the  bills. 

Visitors  felt  more  than  a  passing  interest  in  us  two 
little  ones,  for  accounts  of  the  sufferings  of  the  Don- 

[184] 


OFFICERS  AND  SOLDIERS 

ner  Party  had  been  carried  to  all  the  settlements  on 
the  Pacific  coast  and  had  been  sent  in  print  or  writ- 
ings to  all  parts  of  the  United  States  as  a  warning 
against  further  emigration  to  California  by  way  of 
Hastings  Cut-Off.  Tims  the  name  we  bore  awakened 
sympathy  for  us,  and  in  the  huts  of  the  lowly  natives 
as  well  as  in  the  homes  of  the  rulers  of  the  province, 
we  found  welcome  and  were  greeted  with  words  of 
tenderness,  which  were  often  followed  by  prayers  for 
the  repose  of  the  souls  of  our  precious  dead. 

Marked  attentions  were  also  shown  us  by  officers 
and  soldiers  from  the  post.  The  latter  gathered  in 
the  evenings  at  the  Brunner  home  for  social  inter- 
course. Some  played  cards,  checkers,  and  dominoes, 
or  talked  and  sang  about  " des  Deutschen  Vaterland." 
Others  reviewed  happenings  in  our  own  country,  re- 
called battles  fought  and  victories  won.  And  we,  sit- 
ting between  our  foster  grandparents,  or  beside  Jakie, 
listening  to  their  thrilling  tales,  were,  unwittingly, 
crammed  with  crumbs  of  truth  and  fiction  that  made 
lasting  impressions  upon  our  minds. 

Nor  were  these  odd  bits  of  knowledge  all  we  gained 
from  those  soldier  friends.  They  taught  us  the  al- 
phabet, how  to  spell  easy  words,  and  then  to  form  let- 
ters with  pencil.  They  explained  the  meaning  of  fife 
and  drum  calls  which  we  heard  during  the  day,  and  in 
mischievous  earnestness,  declared  that  they,  the  best 
fighters  of  Colonel  Stephenson's  famous  regiment  of 
New  York  Volunteers,  had  pledged  their  arms  and 
legs  to  our  defence,  and  had  only  come  to  see  if  we 

[185] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

were  worth  the  price  they  might  have  to  pay.  Yet 
they  made  grim  faces  when,  all  too  soon,  the  retreat 
call  from  the  barracks  sounded,  and  away  they  would 
have  to  go  on  the  double  quick,  to  be  at  post  by  the 
time  of  roll  call,  and  in  bed  at  sound  of  taps. 

On  those  evenings  when  grandma  visited  the  sick, 
or  went  from  home  on  errands,  we  children  were 
tucked  away  early  in  our  trundle  bed.  There,  and  by 
ourselves,  we  spoke  of  mother  and  the  mountains.  Not 
infrequently,  however,  our  thoughts  would  be  recalled 
to  the  present  by  loud,  wailing  squeak-squawk,  squeak- 
squawks.  As  the  sound  drew  nearer  and  became 
shriller,  we  would  put  our  fingers  in  our  ears  to 
muffle  the  dismal  tones,  which  we  knew  were  only  the 
creakings  of  the  two  wooden  wheels  of  some  Mexican 
carreta,  laboriously  bringing  passengers  to  town,  or 
perhaps  a  cruder  one  carrying  hides  to  the  etnbar- 
cadero,  or  possibly  supplies  to  adjacent  ranchos.  We 
wondered  how  old  people  and  mothers  with  sick  chil- 
dren could  travel  in  such  uncomfortable  vehicles  and 
not  become  distracted  by  their  nerve-piercing  noises. 
Then,  like  a  bird-song,  pleasanter  scenes  would  steal 
in  upon  our  musings,  of  gay  horseback  parties  on 
their  way  to  church  feasts,  or  fandangos,  preceded  or 
followed  by  servants  in  charge  of  pack  animals  laden 
with  luggage. 

We  rarely  stayed  awake  long  enough  to  say  all  we 
wished  about  the  Spanish  people.  Their  methods  of 
travel,  modes  of  dress,  and  fascinating  manners  were 
sources  of  never-ending  discussion  and  interest. 

[186] 


PUEBLO  OF  SONOMA 

We  had  seen  princely  dons  of  many  leagues  ride  by 
in  state;  dashing  caballeros  resplendent  in  costumes  of 
satin  and  velvet,  on  their  way  to  sing  beneath  the  win- 
dows of  dark-eyed  senoritas;  and  had  stood  close 
enough  to  the  wearers  of  embroidered  and  lace-be- 
decked small  clothes,  to  count  the  scallops  which  closed 
the  seams  of  their  outer  garments,  and  to  hear  the  faint 
tinkle  of  the  tiny  silver  bells  which  dangled  from  them. 
We  had  feasted  our  eyes  on  magnificently  robed  se- 
uoras  and  senoritas;  caught  the  scent  of  the  roses 
twined  in  their  hair,  and  the  flash  of  jewels  on  their 
persons. 

Such  frequent  object-lessons  made  the  names  and 
surroundings  of  those  grandees  easy  to  remember. 
Some  lived  leagues  distant,  some  were  near  neighbors 
in  that  typical  Mexican  Pueblo  of  Sonoma,  whose  adobe 
walls  and  red-tiled  roofs  nestled  close  to  the  foot  of  the 
dimpled  hills  overlooking  the  valley  from  the  north, 
and  whose  historic  and  romantic  associations  were  con- 
nected with  distinguished  families  who  still  called  it 
home. 

Foremost  among  the  men  was  General  Mariano 
Guadalupe  Vallejo,  by  whom  Sonoma  was  founded  in 
1834,  upon  ground  which  had  twice  been  consecrated 
to  Mission  use.  First  by  Padre  Altemera,  who  had, 
in  1823,  established  there  the  church  and  mission 
building  of  San  Francisco  Solano.  And  four  years 
later,  after  hostile  Indians  had  destroyed  the  sacred 
structures.  Padre  Fortune,  under  protection  of  Pre- 
sidio Golden  Gate,  blessed  the  ashes  and  rebuilt  the 

[187] 


THE  KXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

church  and  the  parochial  houses  named  last  on  the  list 
of  the  historic  Missions  of  California. 

The  Vallejo  home  covered  the  largest  plot  of  ground 
on  the  north  side  of  the  plaza,  and  its  great  house  had 
a  hospitable  air,  despite  its  lofty  watchtower,  be- 
grimed by  sentry  holes,  overlooking  every  part  of  the 
valley. 

During  the  period  that  its  owner  was  commandant e 
of  the  northern  frontier,  the  Vallejo  home  was  head- 
quarters for  high  officials  of  the  province.  But  after 
Commodore  Sloat  raised  the  Stars  and  Stripes  at  Mon- 
terey, General  Vallejo  espoused  the  cause  of  the  United 
States,  put  aside  much  of  his  Spanish  exclusiveness, 
and  opened  his  doors  to  Americans  as  graciously  as  to 
friends  of  his  own  nationality. 

A  historic  souvenir  greatly  prized  by  Americans  in 
town  and  valley  was  the  flag  pole,  which  in  Sonoma 's 
infancy  had  been  hewn  from  the  distant  mountain  for- 
est, and  brought  down  on  pack  animals  by  mission  In- 
dians under  General  Vallejo 's  direction.  It  originally 
stood  in  the  centre  of  the  plaza,  where  it  was  planted 
with  sacred  ceremonials,  and  where  amid  ringing- 
cheers  of  ''  Viva  Mexico!  ^'  it  first  flung  to  the  breeze 
that  country's  symbolical  banner  of  green,  white,  and 
red.  Through  ten  fitful  years  it  loyally  waved  those 
colors ;  then  followed  its  brief  humiliation  by  the  Bear 
Flag  episode,  and  early  redemption  by  order  of  Com- 
modore Sloat,  who  sent  thither  an  American  flag-bearer 
to  invest  it  with  the  Stars  and  Stripes.  Thereafter, 
a  patriotic  impulse  suggested  its  removal  to  the  parade 

r  188 1 


SONOMA  MISSION 

ground  of  the  United  States  Army  post,  and  as  Spanish 
residents  looked  upon  it  as  a  thornful  reminder  of  lost 
power  they  felt  no  regret  when  Uncle  Sam's  boys 
transplanted  it  to  new  environments  and  made  it  an 
American  feature  by  adoption. 

But  the  Mexican  landmark  wliich  appealed  to  me 
most  pathetically  was  the  quaint  rustic  belfry  which 
stood  solitary  in  the  open  space  in  front  of  the  Mission 
buildings.  Its  strong  columns  were  the  trunks  of  trees 
that  looked  as  though  they  might  have  grown  there 
for  the  purpose  of  shouldering  the  heavy  cross-beams 
from  which  the  chimes  hung.  Its  smooth  timbers  had 
been  laboriously  hewn  by  hand,  as  must  be  the  case  in 
a  land  where  there  are  no  saw  mills.  The  parts  that 
were  not  bound  together  with  thongs  of  rawhide,  were 
held  in  place  by  wooden  pegs.  The  strips  of  rawhide 
attached  to  the  clappers  dropped  low  enough  for  me 
to  reach,  and  often  tempted  me  to  make  the  bells 
speak. 

Mission  padres  no  longer  dwelt  in  the  buildings, 
but  shepherds  from  distant  folds  came  monthly  to  ad- 
minister to  the  needs  of  this  consecrated  flock.  Then 
the  many  bells  would  call  the  faithful  to  mass,  and 
to  vespers,  or  chime  for  the  wedding  of  favored  sons 
and  daughters.  Part  of  them  would  jingle  merrily  for 
notable  christenings;  but  one  only  would  toll  when 
death  whitened  the  lips  of  some  distinguished  victim ; 
and  again,  while  the  blessed  body  was  being  borne  to 
its  last  resting-place. 

During  one  of  my  first  trips  to  town,  Jakie  and  I 

[189] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

were  standing  by  grandpa's  shop  on  the  east  side  of 
the  plaza,  when  suddenly  those  bells  rang  out  clear  and 
sweet,  and  we  saw  the  believing  glide  oui  of  their 
homes  in  every  direction  and  wend  their  way  to  the 
church.  The  high-born  ladies  had  put  aside  their 
jewels,  their  gorgeous  silks  and  satins,  and  donned  the 
simpler  garb  prescribed  for  the  season  of  fasts  and 
prayer.  Those  to  the  manor  bom  wore  the  pictur- 
esque rehosa  of  fine  lace  or  gauzy  silk,  draped  over  the 
head  and  about  the  shoulders;  while  those  of. humbler 
station  made  the  shawl  serve  in  place  of  the  rehosa. 
The  Indian  servants,  who  with  mats  and  kneeling  cush- 
ions followed  their  mistresses,  wore  white  chemises, 
bright-colored  petticoats,  and  handkerchiefs  folded 
three-cornerwise  over  the  head  and  knotted  under  the 
chin.  The  costumes  of  the  young  girls  were  modelled 
after  those  of  their  mothers;  and  the  little  ladies  ap- 
peared as  demure  and  walked  as  stately  as  their  elders. 
The  gentlemen  also  were  garbed  in  plainer  costumes 
than  their  wont,  and,  for  custom's  sake,  rode  on  horse- 
back even  the  short  distances  which  little  children 
walked. 

The  town  seemed  deserted,  and  the  church  filled,  as 
we  started  homeward,  I  skipping  ahead  until  we 
reached  a  shop  window  where  I  waited  for  Jakie  and 
asked  him  if  he  knew  what  those  pretty  little  things 
were  that  I  saw  on  a  shelf,  in  big  short-necked  glass 
jars.  Some  were  round  and  had  little  ^'  stickers  ''  all 
over  them,  and  others  looked  like  birds'  eggs,  pink, 
yellow,  white,  and  violet 

[190] 


CHILDISH  TREASURES 

He  told  me  the  round  ones  were  sugar  plums,  and 
the  egg-shaped  had  each  an  almond  nut  under  its 
bright  crust;  that  they  were  candies  that  had  come 
from  France  in  the  ships  that  had  brought  the  Span- 
ish people  their  fine  clothes ;  and  that  they  were  only 
for  the  rich,  and  would  make  poor  little  girls*  teeth 
ache,  if  they  should  eat  them. 

Yet,  after  I  confided  to  him  how  mother  had  given 
me  a  lump  of  loaf  sugar  each  night  as  long  as  it  lasted, 
and  how  sorry  we  both  felt  when  there  was  no  more, 
he  led  me  into  the  shop  and  let  me  choose  two  of  each 
kind  and  color  from  the  jars.  We  walked  faster  as 
1  carried  them  home.  Jakie  and  grandma  would  not 
take  any,  but  she  gave  Georgia  and  me  each  a  sugar 
plum  and  an  egg,  and  saved  the  rest  for  other  days 
when  we  should  be  good  children. 


[191] 


CHAPTER  XXII 

GOLD     DISCOVERED ^  ^  CALIFORNIA     IS     OURS  ' ' NURSING 

THE   SICK THE   U.    S.    MILITARY   POST BURIAL   OF   AN 

OFFICER. 

IN"  the  year  1848,  while  the  settlers  and  their  fam- 
ilies were  contentedly  at  work  developing  the  re- 
sour-ces  of  the  country,  the  astounding  cry,  ^^  Gold 
discovered!  ''  came  through  the  valley  like  a  blight, 
stopping  every  industry  in  its  wake. 

Excited  men,  women,  and  children  rushed  to  town 
in  quest  of  information.  It  was  furnished  by  Alcalde 
Boggs  and  General  Vallejo,  who  had  been  called  away 
privately  two  weeks  earlier,  and  had  just  returned  in 
a  state  of  great  enthusiasm,  declaring  that  gold,  *^  in 
dust,  grains,  and  chunks  had  been  discovered  at  Col- 
oma,  not  more  than  a  day's  journey  from  Sutter's 
Fort." 

'*  How  soon  can  we  get  there!  "  became  the  all-ab- 
sorbing problem  of  eager  listeners.  The  only  hotel- 
keeper  in  the  town  sold  his  kettles  and  pans,  closed  his 
house,  and  departed.  Shopkeepers  packed  most  of 
their  supplies  for  immediate  shipment,  and  raised  the 
price  of  those  left  for  home  trade.  Men  and  half- 
grown  boys  hardly  took  time  to  collect  a  meagre  out- 

[1921 


''  CALIFORNIA  IS  OURS  " 

fit  before  they  were  off  with  shovel  and  pan  and 
''  something  big  to  hold  the  gold."  A  few  families 
packed  their  effects  into  emigrant  wagons  and  de- 
serted house  and  lands  for  the  luring  gold  fields. 

Crowds  from  San  Francisco  came  hurrying  through, 
some  stopping  barely  long  enough  to  repeat  the  mad- 
dening tales  that  had  started  them  off  to  the  diggings 
with  pick  and  shovel.  Each  new  rumor  increased  the 
exodus  of  gold-seekers;  and  by  the  end  of  the  first 
week  in  August,  when  the  messenger  arrived  with  the 
long-hoped-for  report  of  the  ratification  of  the  treaty 
of  peace,  and  General  Mason's  proclamation  officially 
announcing  it,  there  were  not  enough  men  left  in  the 
valley,  outside  of  the  barracks,  to  give  a  decent  round 
of  cheers  for  the  blessing  of  peace. 

Grandpa  brought  the  news  home,  *'  California  is 
ours.  There  will  be  no  more  war,  no  more  trouble, 
and  no  more  need  of  soldiers.'' 

Yet  the  women  felt  that  their  battles  and  trials  had 
just  begun,  since  they  had  suddenly  become  the  sole 
home-keepers,  with  limited  ways  and  means  to  provide 
for  the  children  and  care  for  the  stock  and  farms. 
Discouragement  would  have  rendered  the  burdens  of 
many  too  heavy  to  carr\^,  had  not  **  work  together," 
and  *^  help  your  neighbor,"  become  the  watchwords  of 
the  day.  No  one  was  allowed  to  suffer  through  lack 
of  practical  sympathy.  From  house  to  house,  by 
turns,  went  the  strong  to  help  the  weak  to  bridge  their 
troubles.  They  went,  not  with  cheering  words  only, 
but  with  something  in  store  for  the  empty  cupboards 

[193] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

and  with  ready  hands  to  help  to  milk,  wash,  cook,  or 
sew. 

Grandma  was  in  such  demand  that  she  had  little 
time  to  rest;  for  there  was  not  a  doctor  nor  a  "  med- 
icine shop  '  ^  in  the  valley,  and  her  parcels  of  herbs  and 
knowledge  of  their  uses  had  to  serve  for  both.  Nights, 
she  set  her  shoes  handy,  so  that  she  could  dress  quickly 
when  summoned  to  the  sick;  and  dawn  of  day  often 
marked  her  home-coming. 

Georgia  and  I  were  led  into  her  work  early,  for  we 
were  sent  with  broths  and  appetizers  to  the  sick  on 
clearings  within  walking  distances ;  and  she  would  bid 
us  stay  a  while  at  different  houses  where  we  could  be 
helpful,  but  to  be  sure  and  bring  careful  reports  from 
each  home  we  entered.  Under  such  training,  we 
learned  much  about  diseases  and  the  care  of  the  suf- 
fering. Anon,  we  would  find  in  the  plain  wooden 
cradle,  a  dainty  bundle  of  sweetness,  all  done  up  in 
white,  which  its  happy  owner  declared  grandma  had 
brought  her,  and  we  felt  quite  repaid  for  our  tiresome 
walk  if  permitted  to  hold  it  a  wee  while  and  learn  its 
name. 

We  were  sent  together  on  these  missions,  in  order 
that  we  might  help  each  other  to  remember  all  that 
was  told  us;  yet  grandma  had  us  take  turns,  and  the 
one  whom  she  commissioned  to  make  the  inquiries  was^ 
expected  to  bring  the  fuller  answers.  Sometimes,  we 
jjlayed  on  the  way  and  made  mistakes.  Then  she  would 
mete  out  to  us  that  hardest  of  punishments,  namely, 
that  we  were  not  to  speak  with  each  other  until  she 

[194] 


COMPANY  C  AND  COMPANY  H 

should  forgive  our  offence.  Forgiveness  usually  came 
before  time  to  drive  up  the  cows,  for  she  knew  that  we 
were  nimbler-footed  when  she  started  us  off  in  happy 
mood. 

Each  cow  wore  a  bell  of  different  tone  and  knew  her 
own  name ;  yet  it  was  not  an  easy  task,  even  in  pleas- 
ant weather,  to  collect  the  various  strings  and  get  them 
home  on  time.  They  mixed,  and  fed  with  neighbors' 
cattle  on  the  range,  arid  hid  themselves  behind  clumps 
of  trees  and  other  convenient  obstructions.  Often 
grandma  would  get  her  string  in  by  the  main  trail  and 
have  them  milked  before  we  could  bring  up  the  lag- 
gards that  provokingly  dawdled  along,  nibbling  stray 
bunches  of  grass.  When  late  on  the  road,  we  saw 
coyotes  sneaking  out  for  their  evening  meal  and  heard 
the  far-away  cry  of  the  panther.  But  we  were  not 
much  afraid  when  it  was  light  enough,  so  that  imagi- 
nation could  not  i)icture  them  creeping  stealthily  be- 
hind us. 

Our  gallant  Company  C,  officered  by  Captain  Bart- 
lett  and  Lieutenants  Stoneman  and  Stone,  was  ordered 
to  another  post  early  in  August;  and  its  departure 
caused  such  universal  regret  that  no  one  supposed 
Company  H,  under  Captain  Frisbie,  could  fill  its  place. 
Nevertheless,  that  handsome  young  officer  soon  found 
his  way  to  the  good-will  of  the  people,  and  when  Cap- 
tain Joe  Hooker  brought  him  out  to  visit  grandma's 
dairy,  she,  too,  was  greatly  pleased  by  his  soldierly 
bearing.  After  he  mentioned  that  he  had  heard  of 
her  interest  in  the  company  which  had  been  called 

[195] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

away,  and  that  he  believed  she  would  find  Company  H 
equally  deserving  of  her  consideration,  she  readily  ex- 
tended to  the  new  men  the  homelike  privileges  which 
the  others  had  enjoyed.  Thus  more  friends  came 
among  us. 

Notable  among  mine  was  the  old  darkey  cook  at 
headquarters,  from  whom  Georgia  and  I  tried  to  hide, 
the  first  time  she  waddled  out  to  our  house.  She 
searched  us  out,  saying : 

**  Now,  honeys,  don't  yo  be  so  scared  of  dis  olo 
Aunt  Lucy,  'cos  she  's  done  beared  Captain  Hooker 
tell  lots  'bout  yos,  and  has  come  to  see  yos." 

Her  face  was  one  great  smile,  and  her  voice  was  so 
coaxing  that  she  had  little  difficulty  in  gaining  our 
favor,  the  more  so,  as  upon  leaving,  she  called  back, 
''  I's  surely  g'wine  ter  make  dat  little  pie  and  cake 
I's  promised  yos,  so  yos  must  n't  forgit  to  come  git  it." 

On  one  occasion,  when  I  was  sent  to  the  post  on  an 
errand,  she  had  no  pie  or  cake;  but  she  brought  out  a 
primer  and  said  thoughtfully,  *^  I's  g'wine  ter  give  yo 
dis  A-B-C  book,  'cos  I  want  yo  should  grow  up  like 
quality  folks." 

Its  worn  leaves  showed  that  its  owner  had  studied 
its  first  few  pages  only ;  and  when  I  replied,  ^  ^  Grandma 
says  that  I  must  not  take  everything  that  is  offered 
me,"  she  chuckled  and  continued: 

**  Lawd,  honey,  yo  needn't  have  no  'punctions 
'bout  takin'  dis  yer  book,  'cos  I  could  n't  learn  to  read 
nohow  when  I  was  a  gal,  and  I's  too  ole  to  now.  Now, 
I  wants  yo  to  be  nice;  and  yo  can't,  lessen  yo  can 

[196] 


MEETING  WITH  THE  GENERAL 

read  and  talk  like  de  Captain  done  tole  me  yo  mudder 
done. ' ' 

I  was  delighted  with  the  book,  and  told  her  so,  and 
hugged  it  all  the  way  home ;  for  it  had  a  beautiful  pic- 
ture near  the  back,  showing  a  little  girl  with  a  sprink- 
ling pot,  watering  her  garden  of  stocks,  sweet-williams, 
and  hollyhocks.  Her  hair  was  in  four  long  curls,  and 
she  had  trimming  on  her  dress,  apron,  and  long  pant- 
alets. I  was  also  impressed  by  the  new  words 
which  I  had  heard  Aunt  Lucy  use,  *^  'punctions, '  *  and 
**  quality  folks."  I  repeated  them  over  and  over  to 
myself,  so  that  I  should  be  able  to  tell  them  to  Georgia. 

Our  last  visit  to  Aunt  Lucy  must  have  been  prear- 
ranged, for  as  she  admitted  us,  she  said,  ^^  I's  mighty 
glad  yos  done  come  so  soon,  ^cos  I  been  'specting  yos, 
and  mus'  take  yos  right  in  to  de  General.'^ 

I  had  never  seen  a  general,  and  was  shy  about  meet- 
ing one,  until  after  she  assured  me  that  only  cowards 
and  bad  men  feared  him. 

We  walked  down  the  corridor  and  entered  a  large 
room,  where  an  elderly  gentleman  in  uniform  sat  writ- 
ing at  a  table.  Aunt  Lucy  stopped  beside  him,  and 
still  holding  each  by  the  hand,  bowed  low,  saying, 
''  General  Smith,  I's  brung  der  two  little  Donner  gals 
in  to  see  yo,  sah  ";  then  she  slipped  out. 

He  was  as  courteous  to  us  as  though  we  were  grown 
ladies,  shook  hands,  asked  how  we  felt,  begged  us  to 
be  seated,  and  then  stepped  to  a  door  and  called, 
<*  Susan!  Susan!  "  I  liked  the  name.  A  sweet  voice 
answered, ''  Coming!  '' 

[1971 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

Presently,  a  pretty  dark-eyed  Southern  lady  ap- 
peared, who  called  us  **  honeys,"  and  **  dear  little 
girls.''  She  sat  between  us,  joining  with  her  husband 
in  earnest  inquiries  about  our  stay  in  the  mountains 
and  our  home  with  grandma.  Georgia  did  most  of  the 
talking.  I  was  satisfied  just  to  look  at  them  and  hear 
them  speak.  At  the  close  of  our  visit,  with  a  know- 
ing look,  she  took  us  to  see  what  Aunt  Lucy  had  baked. 

The  General  and  she  had  recently  come  to  pay  a 
last  visit  to  a  sick  officer,  who  had  been  sent  from  San 
Francisco  with  the  hope  that  our  milder  climate  would 
prolong  his  life.  They  themselves  stayed  only  a  short 
time,  and  their  friend  never  left  our  valley.  The  day 
he  died,  the  flag  swung  lower  on  the  staff.  Soldiers 
dug  his  grave  on  the  hillside  north  of  town,  and 
word  came  from  army  headquarters  that  he  would  be 
buried  on  the  morrow  at  midday,  with  military  honors. 
Georgia  and  I  wanted  to  know  what  military  honors 
were,  and  as  it  came  time  for  the  funeral,  we  gathered 
with  others  on  the  plaza,  where  the  procession  formed. 
We  were  deeply  impressed. 

The  emigrants  uncovered  and  bowed  their  heads 
reverently,  but  the  soldiers  in  line,  with  guns  reversed, 
stood  erect  and  motionless  as  figures  in  stone,  while 
the  bier  of  the  dead  was  being  carried  through  open 
ranks  to  the  waiting  caisson.  The  coffin  was  covered 
with  a  flag,  and  upon  it  lay  his  chapeau,  gauntlets, 
sash,  and  sword.  His  boots,  with  their  toes  reversed, 
hung  over  the  saddle  of  a  riderless  horse,  led  behind 
the  caisson.     The  solemn  tones   of  fife   and  muffled 

[198] 


A  SOLDIER'S  BURIAL 

drum  led  the  way  through  the  town,  past  the  old  Mis- 
sion bells  and  up  the  hillside.  Only  soldiers  stood 
close  around  the  grave  and  heard  what  was  read  by  the 
officer  who  stood  at  its  head,  with  an  open  book  in  one 
hand  and  a  drawn  sword  in  the  other.  Three  times 
the  file  of  soldiers  fired  a  volley  over  the  grave,  then 
the  muffled  drum  sounded  its  farewell  taps,  and  the 
officers,  with  their  men  and  the  funeral  caisson,  re- 
turned to  their  quarters  in  silent  order. 


ri99] 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

HEAPING    AND    THRESHING A   *PIONEER    FUNERAL THE 

HOMELESS  AND  WAYFARING  APPEAL  TO  MRS.  BRUNNER 

RETURN    OF    THE    MINERS SOCIAL    GATHERINGS OUR 

DAILY  ROUTINE STOLEN  PLEASURES A  LITTLE  DAIRY- 
MAID   MY  DOGSKIN  SHOES. 

REAPING  and  threshing  were  interesting  events 
to  us  that  summer.  Mission  Indians,  scantily 
clothed,  came  and  cut  the  grain  with  long  knives  and 
sickles,  bound  it  in  small  sheaves,  and  stacked  it  in  the 
back  yard  opposite  grandma's  lookout  window,  then 
encircled  it  with  a  rustic  fence,  leaving  a  wide  bare 
space  between  the  stack  and  the  fence,  which  they 
swept  clean  with  green  branches  from  live  oak  trees. 
After  many  days,  Mexican  drivers  brought  a  band 
of  wild  mares  to  help  with  the  work.  A  thick  layer 
of  unthreshed  grain  was  pitched  on  to  the  bare  space 
surrounding  the  stack  and  the  mares  were  driven 
around  and  around  upon  it.  From  time  to  time,  fresh 
material  was  supplied  to  meet  the  needs  of  the  thresh- 
ers. And,  at  given  signals  from  the  men  on  the  stack, 
the  mares  were  turned  out  for  a  short  rest,  also  in  or- 
der to  allow  the  Indians  a  chance  to  throw  out  the 
waste  straw  and  to  heap  the  loose  grain  on  the  win- 

[  200  J 


INDIAN  THRESHERS 

nowmg  ground.  So  they  did  again  and  again,  until 
the  last  sheaf  had  been  trodden  under  foot. 

When  the  threshing  was  finished,  the  Indians  rested ; 
then  prepared  iheir  fires,  and  feasted  on  the  head, 
feet,  and  ofPal  of  a  bullock  which  grandpa  had 
slaughtered. 

Like  buzzards  came  the  squaws  and  papooses  to  take 
what  was  left  of  the  food,  and  to  claim  a  share  from 
the  pile  of  worn-out  clothes  which  grandma  brought 
out  for  distribution.  Amid  shouts  of  pleasure,  gestic- 
ulations, and  all  manner  of  begging,  the  distribution 
began,  and  when  it  ended,  our  front  yard  looked  as 
though  it  were  stocked  with  prize  scarecrows. 

One  big  fellow  was  resplendent  in  a  battered  silk 
liat  and  a  tattered  army  coat ;  another  was  well  dressed 
in  a  pair  of  cast-otf  boots  and  one  of  grandma's  ragged 
aprons.  Georgia  and  I  tried  to  help  to  sort  the  things 
as  they  should  be  worn,  but  our  etforts  were  in  vain. 
Wrong  hands  would  reach  around  and  get  the  articles, 
and  both  sexes  interchanged  suits  with  apparent  satis- 
faction. Grandma  got  quite  out  of  patience  with  one 
great  fellow  who  was  trying  to  put  on  a  petticoat 
that  his  squaw  needed,  and  rushed  up  to  him,  jerked  it 
off,  gave  him  a  vigorous  push,  and  had  the  garment  on 
his  squaw,  before  he  could  do  more  than  grunt.  In 
the  end  they  went  away  caring  more  for  the  clothes 
that  had  been  given  them  than  for  the  money  they  had 
earned. 

Before  the  summer  waned,  death  claimed  one  of  our 
own  brave  women,  and  immigrants  from  far  and  near 

[2011 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

gathered  to  do  her  honor.  I  do  not  recollect  her  name, 
but  know  that  she  was  tall  and  fair,  and  that  grandma, 
who  had  watched  with  her  through  her  last  hours,  told 
Georgia  and  me  that  when  we  saw  the  procession  leave 
the  house,  we  might  creep  through  our  back  fence  and 
reach  the  grave  before  those  who  should  walk  around 
by  the  road.  We  were  glad  to  go,  for  we  had  watched 
the  growth  of  the  fresh  ridge  under  a  large  oak  tree, 
not  far  from  our  house,  and  had  heard  a  friend  say 
that  it  would  be  ^^  a  heavenly  resting  place  for  the 
freed  sufferer." 

Her  family  and  nearest  neighbors  left  the  house 
afoot,  behind  the  wagon  which  carried  the  plain  red- 
wood coffin.  At  the  cross-road  several  fell  in  line, 
and  at  the  grave  was  quite  a  gathering.  A  number 
came  in  their  ox  wagons,  others  on  horseback;  among 
them,  a  father  afoot,  leading  n  horse  upon  whose  back 
sat  his  wife  with  an  infant  in  arms  and  a  child  behind 
clinging  to  her  waist ;  and  several  old  nags,  freighted 
with  children,  were  led  by  one  parent,  while  the  other 
walked  alongside  to  see  that  none  should  lose  their 
balance  and  fall  off. 

No  minister  of  the  Gospel  was  within  call,  so,  after 
the  coffin  was  placed  upon  the  bars  above  the  open 
grave,  and  the  lid  removed,  a  friend  who  had  crossed 
the  plains  with  the  dead,  offered  a  prayer,  and  all  the 
listeners  said,  ^^  Amen." 

I  might  not  have  remembered  all  these  things,  if 
Georgia  and  I  had  not  watched  over  that  grave,  when 
all  others  seemed  to  have  forgotten  it.    As  we  brought 

[202] 


SALE  OF  ARMY  STORES 

brush  to  cover  it,  in  order  to  keep  the  cattle  from 
dusting  themselves  in  the  loose  earth,  wo  talked  mat- 
ters over,  and  felt  as  though  that  mother's  grave  had 
been  bequeathed  to  us.  Grandma  had  instructed  us 
that  the  graveyard  is  ''  God's  acre,"  and  that  it  is  a 
sin  to  live  near  and  not  tend  it.  Still,  no  matter  how 
often  we  chased  the  cattle  away,  they  would  return. 
We  could  not  make  them  understand  that  their  old 
resting-place  had  become  sacred  ground. 

About  the  middle  of  October,  1848,  the  last  of  the 
volunteers  were  mustered  out  of  service,  and  shortly 
thereafter  the  excess  of  army  stores  were  condemned 
and  sold.  Ex-soldiers  had  preference  over  settlers, 
and  could  buy  the  goods  at  Government  rates,  plus  a 
small  cost  of  transportation  to  the  Pacific  coast. 
Grandma  profited  by  the  good-will  of  those  whom  she 
had  befriended.  They  stocked  her  store-room  witli 
salt  pork,  flour,  rice,  coffee,  sugar,  ship-bread,  dried 
fruit,  and  camp  condiments  at  a  nominal  figure  above 
what  they  themselves  paid  for  them. 

This  was  fortunate,  for  the  hotel  was  still  closed, 
and  the  homeless  and  wayfaring  appealing  to  grandma, 
easily  persuaded  her  to  make  room  for  them  at  her 
table.  The  greater  the  number,  the  harder  she  worked, 
and  the  more  she  expected  of  us.  Although  we  rose 
at  dawn,  and  rolled  our  sleeves  high  as  slie  rolled  hers, 
and  like  her,  turned  up  our  dress  skirts  and  pinned 
them  behind  under  our  long  belt  aprons,  we  could  not 
keep  pace  with  her  work. 

Nevertheless,  we  were  pleasing  reminders  of  little 

r  203  1 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

girls  whom  she  had  known  in  her  native  village,  and 
she  was  proud  of  us,  and  had  two  little  white  dresses 
fashioned  to  be  worn  on  very  special  occasions.  After 
they  were  finished,  we  also  were  proud,  and  made  many 
trips  into  the  room  to  see  how  beautiful  they  looked 
hanging  against  the  wall  under  the  curtain. 

Marvellous  accounts  of  the  extent  and  richness  of 
the  gold-diggings  were  now  brought  to  town  by  traf- 
fickers in  provisions  for  mining-camps.  This  good 
news  inspired  our  home-keepers  with  renewed  courage. 
They  worked  faster  while  planning  the  comfort  they 
should  enjoy  after  the  return  of  the  absent. 

The  first  to  come  were  the  unfortunate,  who  sought 
to  shake  off  rheumatism,  lung  trouble,  or  the  stubborn 
low-grade  fever  brought  on  by  working  in  the  water, 
sleeping  on  damp  ground,  eating  poorly  cooked  food, 
or  wearing  clothing  insufficient  to  guard  against  the 
morning  and  evening  chill.  Few  had  much  to  show 
for  their  toil  and  privation;  yet,  not  disheartened, 
even  in  delirium,  they  clamored  to  hasten  back  for  the 
precious  treasure  which  seemed  ever  beckoning  them 
onward. 

When  wind  and  weather  drove  them  home,  the  ro- 
bust came  with  bags  of  gold  rolled  in  their  snug  packs. 
They  called  each  other  **  lucky  dogs,''  yet  looked  like 
grimy  beggars,  with  faces  so  bewhiskered,  and  cloth- 
ing so  ragged,  or  so  wonderfully  patched,  that  little 
children  cried  when  they  drew  near,  and  wives  threw 
up  their  hands,  exclaiming,  *  *  For  the  land 's  sake !  can 
it  be?  ''  Yet  each  home-comer  found  glad  welcome,  and 

[204] 


GOLD  DUST  AND  NUGGETS 

messengers  were  quick  to  spread  the  news,  and  friends 
gathered  to  rejoice  with  the  returned. 

Now  each  home-cooked  dish  was  a  feast  for  the 
camp-fed  to  contrast  with  their  fare  at  Coloma, 
Wood's  Camp,*  and  sundry  other  places,  where  flour, 
rice,  ship-bread,  and  coffee  were  three  dollars  a  pound ; 
salt  pork  and  white  beans,  two  dollars  a  pound ;  jerked 
beef,  eight  dollars  a  pound;  saleratus,  sixteen  dollars 
an  ounce ;  and  salt,  sugar,  and  raisins  were  put  on  the 
scales  to  balance  their  weight  in  gold  dust ;  where  liq- 
uor was  fifty  cents  a  tablespoonful,  and  candles  five 
dollars  each.  It  was  not  the  prices  at  which  they  com- 
plained, but  at  the  dearth  of  these  staples,  which  had 
forced  them  home  to  wait  until  spring  should  again 
open  the  road  to  supply-trains. 

The  homeless,  who  in  the  evenings  found  comfort 
and  cheer  around  grandma 's  table,  would  take  out  their 
treasure  bags  and  boxes  and  pour  their  dust  and  grains 
of  gold  in  separate  piles,  to  show  the  quality  and  quan- 
tity, then  pass  the  nuggets  around  that  all  might  see 
what  strange  figures  nature  had  moulded  in  secret  up 
among  the  rocks  and  ravines  of  the  Sierras. 

One  Roman  Catholic  claimed  as  his  choicest  prize  a 
perfectly  shaped  cross  of  free  gold,  which  he  had 
cradled  from  the  sands  in  the  bed  of  a  creek.  Another 
had  an  image  of  the  \^irgin  and  Child.  A  slight  stretcli 
of  the  imagination  turned  many  of  the  beautifully 
fretted  pieces  into  miniature  birds  and  other  admir- 
able designs  for  sweetheart  brooches. 

*Now  Jamestown. 

[205] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

The  exhibition  over,  each  would  scrape  his  hoard 
back  into  its  receptacle,  blow  the  remaining  yellow  par- 
ticles on  to  the  floor  so  that  the  table  should  not  show 
stain,  and  then  settle  himself  to  take  his  part  in  relat- 
ing amusing  and  thrilling  incidents  of  life  in  the  min- 
ing camps.  Not  a  window  was  closed,  nor  a  door 
locked,  nor  a  wink  of  sleep  lost  in  those  days,  guard- 
ing bags  of  gold.  *  *  Hands  off  ' '  was  the  miners '  law, 
and  all  knew  that  death  awaited  him  who  should  ven- 
ture to  break  it. 

Heavy  purses  made  willing  spenders,  and  generous 
impulses  were  untrammelled.  Nothing  could  be  more 
gratifying  or  touching  than  the  respect  shown  by  those 
homeless  men  to  the  pioneer  women  and  children. 
They  would  walk  long  distances  and  suffer  delays  and 
inconveniences  for  the  privilege  of  passing  a  few  hours 
imder  home  influences,  and  were  ever  ready  to  con- 
tribute toward  pleasures  in  which  all  might  participate. 

There  were  so  few  young  girls  in  the  community, 
and  their  presence  was  so  greatly  desired,  that  in  the 
early  winter,  Georgia  and  I  attended  as  welcome 
guests  some  of  the  social  gatherings  which  began  at 
early  candle-light,  and  we  wore  the  little  white  dresses 
that  were  so  precious  in  our  eyes. 

Before  the  season  was  half  over,  heavy  rain  was 
followed  by  such  bitter  cold  that  all  the  ground  and 
still  waters  were  frozen  stiff.  Although  we  were  well 
muffled,  and  grandma  warmed  us  up  with  a  drink  of 
hot  water  and  sweetened  cream  before  starting  us  out 
after  the  cows,  the  frost  nipped  at  our  feet  until  the 

[206] 


HOUSEHOLD  TASKS 

old  scars  became  so  angry  and  painful  that  we  could 
scarcely  hobble  about  the  house.  Many  remedies  were 
tried,  to  no  purpose,  the  most  severe  being  the  early 
foot  bath  with  floats  of  ice  in  the  water.  It  chilled  us 
through  and  through,  and  also  made  grandma  keep  us 
from  the  fire,  lest  the  heat  should  undo  the  benefit  ex- 
pected from  the  cold.  So,  while  we  sat  with  shivering 
forms  and  chattering  teeth  looking  across  the  room  at 
the  blazing  logs  under  the  breakfast  pots  and  kettles, 
our  string  of  cows  was  coming  home  in  care  of  a  new 
driver. 

"We  were  glad  to  be  together,  even  in  misery,  and  all 
things  considered,  were  perhaps  as  useful  in  our  crip- 
pled condition  as  before,  for  there  was  enough  to  keep 
our  hands  busy  while  our  feet  rested.  Grandma 
thought  she  made  our  work  lighter  by  bringing  it  to 
us,  yet  she  came  too  often  for  it  to  seem  easy  to  us. 

First,  the  six  brass  candlesticks,  with  hoods,  snuffers, 
and  trays  had  to  be  brightened;  and  next,  there  were 
the  small  brass  kettles  in  which  she  boiled  the  milk  for 
coffee,  to  be  polished  inside  and  out.  However,  we  did 
not  dread  the  kettles  much,  unless  burned,  for  there 
was  always  a  spoon  in  the  bottom  to  help  to  gather  the 
scrapings,  of  which  we  were  very  fond. 

But  when  she  would  come  with  a  large  pan  of  dried 
beans  or  peas  to  be  picked  over  quickly,  so  that  she 
could  get  them  soaked  for  early  cooking,  we  would 
measure  its  contents  with  critical  eyes  to  make  sure 
that  it  was  not  more  than  we  had  had  the  previous  day. 
By  the  time  we  would  get  to  the  bottom  of  the  pan,  she 

r  207  1 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

would  be  ready  to  put  before  us  a  discouraging  pile  of 
iron  knives,  forks,  and  pewter  spoons  to  scour  with 
wood  ashes.  How  we  did  hate  those  old  black  knives 
and  forks!  She  said  her  sight  was  poor  —  but  she 
could  always  see  when  we  slighted  any. 

The  redeeming  work  of  the  day  was  sorting  the  dried 
fruit  for  sauce  or  pies.  We  could  take  little  nibbles  as 
we  handled  it,  and  knew  that  we  should  get  an  extra 
taste  when  it  was  ready  for  use.  And  after  she  had 
13ut  the  upper  crust  on  the  pies,  she  would  generally 
permit  us  to  make  the  fancy  print  around  the  edges 
with  a  fork,  and  then  prick  a  figure  in  the  centre  to  let 
the  steam  escape  while  baking. 

Sometimes  she  received  a  dollar  apiece  for  these 
pies ;  and  she  had  so  many  customers  for  them  and  for 
such  loaves  of  bread  as  she  could  spare,  that  she  often 
declared  the  farm  was  as  good  as  a  gold  mine. 

We  were  supposed  not  to  play  with  dolls,  conse- 
quently we  durst  not  ask  any  one  to  step  around  and 
see  how  our  little  house  in  the  back  yard  was  weather- 
ing the  storms,  nor  how  the  beloved  nine  in  it  were 
getting  along.  Though  only  bottles  of  different  sizes, 
to  us  they  were  dear  children,  named  after  great  per- 
sonages whom  the  soldiers  had  taught  us  to  honor. 

The  most  distinguished  had  cork  stoppers  for  heads, 
with  faces  marked  on  the  sides,  the  rest,  only  wads  of 
XJaper  or  cloth  fastened  on  the  ends  of  sticks  that 
reached  down  into  the  bodies.  A  strip  of  cloth  tied 
around  each  neck,  below  the  bulge,  served  as  make- 
believe  arms,  suitable  for  all  ordinary  purposes,  and, 

[  208  1 


A  BUSY  LITTLE  DAIEYMAID 

with  a  little  assistance,  capable  of  saluting  an  officer 
or  waving  to  a  comrade. 

We  worried  because  they  were  clothed  in  fragments 
of  cloth  and  paper  foo  thin  for  the  season;  and  the 
very  first  chance  we  got,  we  slipped  out  and  found  our 
darlings  in  a  pitiable  plight.  Generals  Washington 
and  Jackson,  and  little  Van  Buren  were  mired  at  the 
foot  of  a  land  slide  from  the  overhanging  bank.  Tay- 
lor, Webster,  Clay,  and  Benton  had  been  knocked  down 
and  buried  almost  out  of  sight.  Martha  Washington's 
white  shawl  and  the  chicken  plumes  in  her  hat  were 
ruined;  and  Dandy  Jim  from  North  Carolina  lay  at 
her  feet  with  a  broken  neck! 

Such  a  shock !  Not  until  we  realized  that  everything 
could  be  restored  was  our  grief  assuaged  —  that  is, 
everything  but  Dandy  Jim.  He  was  a  serious  loss,  for 
he  was  our  only  black  bottle  and  had  always  been  kept 
to  wait  on  Martha  Washington. 

We  worked  fast,  and  had  accomplished  so  much  be- 
fore being  called  into  the  house  that  we  might  have 
put  everything  in  order  next  day,  had  Georgia  not 
waked  up  toward  morning  with  a  severe  cold,  and  had 
grandma  not  found  out  how  she  caught  it.  The  out- 
come was  that  our  treasures  were  taken  to  the  store- 
room to  become  medicine  and  vinegar  bottles,  and  we 
mourned  like  birds  robbed  of  their  young. 

New  duties  were  opened  to  me  as  soon  as  I  could 
wear  my  shoes,  and  by  the  time  Georgia  was  out  again, 
I  was  a  busy  little  dairymaid,  and  quite  at  home  in  tlie 
corrals.    I  had  been  decorated  with  the  regulation  salt 

r  209  1 


.THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

bag,  which  hung  close  to  my  left  side,  like  a  fisher- 
man's basket.  I  owned  a  quart  cup  and  could  milk 
with  either  hand,  also  knew  how  to  administer  the 
pinch  of  salt  which  each  cow  expected.  After  a  little 
practice  I  became  able  to  do  all  the  ' '  stripping. ' '  In 
some  cases  it  amounted  to  not  more  than  half  a  pint 
from  each  animal.  However,  much  or  little,  the  strip- 
pings  were  of  importance,  and  were  kept  separate,  be- 
cause grandma  considered  them  ^^  good  as  cream  in 
the  cheese  kettle. ' ' 

When  I  could  sit  on  the  one-legged  stool,  which 
Jakie  had  made  me,  hold  a  pail  between  my  knees  and 
milk  one  or  more  cows,  without  help,  they  both  praised 
my  cleverness  —  a  cleverness  which  fixed  more  outside 
responsibilities  upon  me,  and  kept  me  from  Georgia  a 
longer  while  each  day.  My  work  was  hard,  still  I  re- 
mained noticeably  taller  and  stronger  than  she,  who 
was  assigned  to  lighter  household  duties.  I  felt  that  I 
had  no  reason  to  complain  of  my  tasks,  because  every- 
body about  me  was  busy,  and  the  work  had  to  be  done. 

If  I  was  more  helpful  than  my  Jittle  sister,  I  was 
also  a  source  of  greater  trouble,  for  I  wore  out  my 
clothes  faster,  and  they  were  difficult  to  replace,  es- 
pecially shoes. 

There  was  but  one  shoemaker  in  the  town,  and  he 
was  kept  so  busy  that  he  took  a  generous  measure  of 
children's  feet  and  then  allowed  a  size  or  more,  to 
guard  against  the  shoes  being  too  small  by  the  time  he 
should  get  them  finished. 

When  my  little  stogies  began  to  leak,  he  shook  his 

[210] 


OLD  BHOES  AND  NEW 

head  thoughtfully,  and  declared  that  he  had  so  many 
x^rders  for  men's  boots  that  he  could  not  possibly  work 
for  women  or  children  until  those  orders  were  filled. 
Consequently,  grandma  kept  her  eye  on  my  shoes,  and 
as  they  got  worse  and  worse,  she  became  sorely  per- 
plexed. She  would  not  let  me  go  barefooted,  because 
she  was  afraid  of  **  snags  ''  and  ensuing  lockjaw;  she 
could  not  loan  me  her  own,  because  she  was  saving 
them  for  special  occasions,  and  wearing  instead  the 
heavy  sabots  she  had  brought  from  her  native  land. 
She  tried  the  effect  of  continually  reminding  me  to 
pick  my  way  and  save  my  shoes,  which  made  life  mis- 
erable for  us  both.  Finally  she  upbraided  me  harshly 
for  a  playful  run  across  the  yard  with  Courage,  and  I 
lost  my  temper,  and  grumbled. 

*  *  I  would  rather  go  barefooted  and  get  snags  in  my 
feet  than  have  so  much  bother  about  old  shoes  that  are 
worn  out  and  no  good  anyway !  * ' 

I  was  still  crying  when  Hendrik,  a  roly-poly  Hol- 
lander, came  along  and  asked  the  cause  of  my  distress. 
Grandma  told  him  that  I  was  out  of  humor,  because 
she  was  trying  to  keep  shoes  on  my  feet,  while  I  was* 
determined  to  run  them  off.  He  laughed,  bade  me 
cheer  up,  sang  the  rollicking  sailor  song  with  which 
he  used  to  drive  away  storms  at  sea,  then  showed  me  a' 
hole  in  the  heel  of  the  dogskin  boots  he  wore,  and  told 
me  that,  out  of  their  tops,  he  would  make  me  a  beauti- 
ful pair  of  shoes. 

No  clouds  darkened  my  sky  the  morning  that  Hen- 
drik came,  wearing  a  pair  of  new  cowhide  boots  then 

r  2111 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

squeaked  as  though  singing  crickets  were  between  the 
heavy  soles ;  for  he  had  his  workbox  and  the  dogskins 
under  his  arm,  and  we  took  seats  under  the  oak  tree, 
where  he  laid  out  his  tools  and  went  to  work  without 
more  ado. 

He  had  brought  a  piece  of  tanned  cowhide  for  the 
soles  of  my  shoes,  an  awl,  a  sailor's  thimble,  needles, 
coarse  thread,  a  ball  of  wax,  and  a  sharp  knife.  The 
hair  on  the  inside  of  the  boot  legs  was  thick  and 
smooth,  and  the  colors  showed  that  one  of  the  skins 
had  been  taken  from  the  body  of  a  black  and  white 
dog,  and  the  other  from  that  of  a  tawny  brindle.  As 
Hendrik  modelled  and  sewed,  he  told  me  a  wondrous 
tale  of  the  great  North  Polar  Sea,  where  he  had  gone 
in  a  whaling  vessel,  and  had  stayed  all  winter  among 
mountains  of  ice  and  snow.  There  his  boots  had  worn 
out.  So  he  had  bought  these  skins  from  queer  little 
people  there,  who  live  in  snow  huts,  and  instead  of 
horses  or  oxen,  use  dogs  to  draw  their  sleds. 

I  liked  the  black  and  white  skin  better  than  the  brin- 
dle, so  he  cut  that  for  the  right  foot,  and  told  me 
always  to  make  it  start  first.  And  when  I  put  the 
shoes  on  they  felt  so  soft  and  warm  that  I  knew  I  could 
never  forget  Hendrik 's  generosity  and  kindness. 
•  The  longer  I  wore  them  the  more  I  became  attached 
to  them,  and  the  better  I  understood  the  story  he  had 
told  me ;  for  in  my  musings  they  were  not  shoes,  but 
^^  Spot  "  and  ^'  Brindle,''  live  Eskimo  dogs,  that  had 
drawn  families  of  queer  little  people  in  sleds  over  the 
frozen  sea,  and  had  always  been  hungry  and  ready  to 

[  212  1 


WAITING  ON  THE  SHOEMAKER 

fight  over  their  scanty  meals.  At  times  I  imagined 
that  they  wanted  to  race  and  scamper  about  as  happy 
dogs  do,  and  I  woukl  run  myself  out  of  breath  to  keep 
them  going,  and  always  stop  with  Spot  in  the  lead. 

When  I  needed  shoestrings,  I  was  sent  to  the  shoe- 
maker, who  only  glanced  up  and  replied,  '^  Come  to- 
morrow, and  I  '11  have  a  piece  of  leather  big  enough.*' 

The  next  day,  he  made  the  same  answer,  **  Come  to- 
morrow," and  kept  pegging  away  as  fast  as  he  could 
on  a  boot  sole.  The  third  time  I  appeared  before 
him,  he  looked  up  with  the  ejaculation,  ^*  Well,  I  '11  be 
damned,  if  she  ain't  here  again!" 

I  was  well  aware  that  he  should  not  have  used  that 
evil  word,  yet  was  not  alarmed,  for  I  had  heard 
grandpa  and  others  use  worse,  and  mean  no  harm, 
nor  yet  intend  to  be  cross.  So  I  stood  quietly,  and  in 
a  trice  he  was  up,  had  rushed  across  the  shop,  brought 
back  two  round  pieces  of  leather  not  larger  than 
cookies,  and  before  I  knew  what  he  was  about,  had 
turned  them  into  good  straight  shoestrings.  He  waxed 
them,  and  handed  them  to  me  with  the  remark,  **  Tell 
your  grandma  that  since  you  had  to  wait  so  long,  I 
charge  her  only  twenty-five  cents  for  them." 


[213 


CHAPTER  XXIY 

MEXICAN     METHODS     OF     CULTIVATION FIRST     STEAMSHIP 

THROUGH    THE   GOLDEN  GATE '^  THE   ARGONAUTS  ''   OR 

**  BOYS  OF    '49  '' A  LETTER  FROM  THE  STATES JOHN 

BAPTISTE JAKIE    LEAVES    US THE     FIRST    AMERICAN 

SCHOOL  IN  SONOMA. 

BY  the  first  of  March,  1849,  carpenters  had  the 
frame  of  grandma 's  fine  new  two-story  house  en- 
closed, and  the  floors  partly  laid.  Neighbors  were 
hurrying  to  get  their  fields  ploughed  and  planted,  those 
without  farming  implements  following  the  Mexican's 
crude  method  of  ploughing  the  ground  with  wooden 
prongs  and  harrowing  in  the  seed  by  dragging  heavy 
brush  over  it. 

They  gladly  turned  to  any  tool  that  would  complete 
the  work  by  the  time  the  roads  to  the  mountains  should 
be  passable,  and  the  diggings  clear  of  snow.  Their  ex- 
pectations might  have  been  realized  sooner,  if  a  bluff 
old  launch  captain,  with  an  eye  to  business  for  himself 
and  San  Francisco,  had  not  appeared  on  the  scene, 
shouting,  *^  Ahoy  ''  to  everybody. 

**  I  say,  a  steamship  anchored  in  the  Bay  of  San 
Francisco  two  days  ago.  She  's  the  California, 
Steamed  out  of  New  York  Harbor  with  merchandise. 
Stopped  at  Panama;  there  took  aboard  three  hundred 

[214] 


STEAMER  AT  SAN  FRANCISCO 

and  fifty  waiting  passengers  that  had  cut  across  coun- 
try —  a  mixture  of  men  from  all  parts  of  the  United 
States,  who  have  come  to  carry  oif  the  gold  diggings, 
root  and  branch !  Others  are  coming  in  shiploads  as 
fast  as  they  can.  Now  mark  my  words,  and  mark  them 
well:  provisions  is  going  to  run  mighty  short,  and  if 
this  valley  wants  any,  it  had  better  send  for  them 
pretty  damn  quick!  " 

By  return  boat,  farmers,  shopkeepers,  and  carpen- 
ters hastened  to  San  Francisco.  All  were  eager  for 
supplies  from  the  first  steamship  that  had  entered  the 
Golden  Gate  —  the  first,  it  may  be  added,  that  most  of 
them,  even  those  of  a  sea-going  past,  had  ever  seen. 

During  the  absence  of  husbands,  we  little  girls  were 
loaned  separately  nights  to  timid  wives  who  had  no 
children  to  keep  them  company.  Georgia  went  earlier 
and  stayed  later  than  I,  because  grandma  could  not 
spare  me  in  the  evenings  until  after  the  cows  were 
turned  out,  and  she  needed  me  in  the  mornings  before 
sunrise.  Those  who  borrowed  us  made  our  stays  so 
pleasant  that  we  felt  at  home  in  many  different  houses. 

Once,  however,  I  encountered  danger  on  my  early 
homeward  trip. 

I  had  turned  the  bend  in  the  road,  could  see  the 
smoke  curling  out  of  grandma's  chimney,  and  knew 
that  every  nearer  house  was  closed.  In  order  to  avoid 
attracting  the  attention  of  a  suspicious-looking  cow  on 
the  road,  I  was  running  stealthily  along  a  rail  fence, 
when,  unexpectedly,  I  came  upon  a  family  of  sleeping 
swine,  and  before  I  was  aware  of  danger  from  that 

[215] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

direction  was  set  upon  and  felled  to  the  ground  by  a 
vicious  beast.  Impelled,  I  know  not  how,  but  quick 
as  thought,  I  rolled  over  and  over  and  over,  and  when 
I  opened  my  eyes  I  was  on  the  other  side  of  the  fence, 
and  an  angry,  noisy,  bristling  creature  was  glaring  at 
me  through  the  rails. 

Quivering  like  a  leaf  and  for  a  time  unable  to  rise, 
I  lay  upon  the  green  earth  facing  the  morning  sky. 
With  strange  sensations  and  wonderment,  I  tried  to 
think  what  might  have  happened,  if  I  had  not  rolled. 
What  if  that  space  between  fence  and  ground  had  been 
too  narrow  to  let  my  body  through;  what  if,  on  the 
other  hand,  it  had  been  wide  enough  for  that  enraged 
brute  to  follow  ? 

Too  frightened  to  cry,  and  still  trembling,  I  made 
my  way  to  the  end  of  the  field  and  climbed  back  over 
the  fence  near  home.  Grandma  was  greatly  startled 
by  my  blanched  face,  and  the  rumpled  and  soiled  con- 
dition of  my  clothes.  After  I  related  my  frightful  ex- 
perience, she  also  felt  that  had  it  not  been  for  that 
fence,  I  should  have  been  torn  to  pieces.  She  ex- 
plained, however,  that  I  probably  would  not  have  been 
attacked  had  I  not  startled  the  old  mother  so  sud- 
denly that  she  believed  her  young  in  danger. 

When  our  menfolk  returned  from  San  Francisco, 
they  were  accompanied  by  many  excited  treasure- 
seekers,  anxious  to  secure  pack  animals  to  carry  their 
effects  to  the  mines.  They  were  made  welcome,  and 
in  turn  furnished  us  news  of  the  outer  world,  and  dis- 
tributed worn  copies  of  American  and  foreign  news- 

[2161 


THE  ARGONAUTS 

papers,  which  our  hungry-minded  pioneers  read  and 

re-read  so  long  as  the  lines  held  togetlier. 

Those   light-hearted   newcomers,    who    danced    and 

gayly  sang, 

O  Susannah,  don't  you  cry  for  me! 
I  'ui  bound  to  Calif orny  with  a  tin  pan  on  my  knee, 

were  the  first  we  saw  of  that  vast  throng  of  gold-seek- 
ers, who  flocked  to  our  shores  within  a  twelvemonth, 
and  who  have  since  become  idealized  in  song  and  story 
as  the  *'  Argonauts,"  ^^  the  Boys  of  '49." 

They  were  unlike  either  our  pioneer  or  our  soldier 
friends  in  style  of  dress  and  manner.  Nor  had  they 
come  to  build  homes  or  develop  the  country.  They 
wanted  gold  to  carry  back  to  other  lands.  Some  had 
expected  to  find  it  near  the  Bay  of  San  Francisco ; 
some,  to  scoop  it  up  out  of  the  river  beds  that  crossed 
the  valleys;  and  others,  to  shovel  it  from  ravines  and 
mountain-sides.  When  told  of  the  difficulties  before 
them,  their  impatience  grew  to  be  off,  that  they  might 
prove  to  Western  plodders  what  could  be  done  by 
Eastern  pluck  and  muscle. 

Such  packing  as  those  men  did!  Mother's  Bible, 
and  wife  and  baby's  daguerreotype  not  infrequently 
started  to  the  mines  in  the  coffee  pot,  or  in  the  miner's 
boots,  hanging  across  the  mule's  pack.  The  sweet- 
heart's lock  of  hair,  affectionately  concealed  beneath 
the  hat  lining  of  its  faithful  wearer,  caught  the  scent 
of  the  old  clay  pipe  stuck  in  the  hat-band. 

With  the  opening  season  all  available  Indians  of 
both  sexes  were  hired  as  gold-diggers,  and  trudged 

[2171 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY, 

along  behind  their  employers,  and  our  town  was  again 
reduced  to  a  settlement  of  white  women  and  children. 
But  what  a  difference  in  the  feeling  of  our  people !  We 
now  heard  regularly  from  the  Bay  City,  and  enter- 
tained transients  from  nearly  every  part  of  the  globe; 
and  these  would  loan  us  books  and  newspapers,  and 
frequently  store  unnecessary  possessions  with  us  until 
they  should  return  from  the  mines. 

San  Francisco  had  a  regular  post  office.  One  day 
its  postmaster  forwarded  a  letter,  addressed  to  ex- 
Governor  Boggs,  which  the  latter  brought  out  and  read 
to  grandma.  She  did  not,  as  usual,  put  her  head  out  of 
the  window  and  call  us,  but  came  from  the  house  wip- 
ing her  eyes,  and  asked  if  we  wanted  to  be  put  in  a  big 
ship  and  sent  away  from  her  and  grandma  and  Jakie. 

Greatly  alarmed,  we  exclaimed,  ^'  No,  no,  grandma, 
no!'' 

Taking  us  by  the  hand,  she  led  us  into  the  house, 
seated  herself  and  drew  one  of  us  to  each  side,  then 
requested  the  Governor  to  read  the  letter  again.  We 
two  did  not  understand  all  it  said,  but  enough  to  know 
that  it  had  been  written  by  our  own  dear  aunt,  Eliza- 
beth Poor,  who  wanted  Governor  Boggs  to  find  her  sis- 
ter's three  little  orphaned  girls  and  send  them  back 
to  her  by  ship  to  Massachusetts.  It  contained  the 
necessary  directions  for  carrying  out  her  wish. 

Grandma  assured  the  Governor  that  we  did  not 
want  to  leave  her,  nor  would  she  give  us  up.  She  said 
she  and  her  husband  and  Jakie  had  befriended  us 
when  we  were  poor  and  useless,  and  that  we  were 

[218] 


OUR  WELFARE  ASSURED 

now  beginning  to  be  helpful.  Moreover,  tliat  they  had 
prospered  greatly  since  we  had  come  into  their  home, 
and  that  their  luck  might  change  if  they  should  part 
from  -us.  She  further  stated  that  she  already  had 
riches  in  her  own  right,  which  we  should  inherit  at  her 
death. 

The  Governor  spoke  of  schools  and  divers  matters 
pertaining  to  our  welfare,  then  promised  to  explain  by 
letter  to  Aunt  Elizabeth  how  fortunately  we  were 
situated. 

This  event  created  quite  a  flutter  of  excitement 
among  friends.  Grandpa  and  Jakie  felt  just  as 
grandma  did  about  keeping  us.  Georgia  and  I  were 
sssured  that  in  not  being  allowed  to  go  across  the 
water,  we  had  escaped  great  suffering,  and,  perhaps, 
drowning  by  shipwreck.  Still,  we  did  wish  that  it  were 
possible  for  us  to  see  Aunt  Elizabeth,  whom  mother 
had  taught  us  to  love,  and  who  now  wanted  us  to  come 
to  her. 

I  told  Georgia  that  I  would  learn  to  write  as  fast  as 
I  could,  and  send  her  a  letter,  so  she  would  know  all 
about  us. 

We  now  imagined  that  we  were  quite  large  girls,  for 
grandma  usually  said  before  going  away,  *'  Children, 
you  know  what  there  is  to  do  and  I  leave  everything 
in  your  care.''  We  did  not  realize  that  this  was  her 
little  scheme,  in  part,  to  keep  us  out  of  mischief;  but 
we  knew  that  upon  her  return  she  would  see,  and  call 
attention  to  what  was  left  undone. 

Once,  when  we  were  at  home  alone  and  talking  about 

[219] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

*^  endless  work  and  aching  bones,"  as  we  had  heard 
grown-up  folks  complain  of  theirs,  we  were  interrupted 
by  a  bareback  rider  who  did  not  '^  tie  up  ''  under  the 
live  oak,  but  came  to  the  shade  of  the  white  oak  in 
front  of  us  at  the  kitchen  door.  After  a  cheery 
''  Howdy  do  ''  and  a  hand  shake,  he  exclaimed, 

*  *  I  heard  at  Napa  that  you  lived  here,  and  my  pony 
has  made  a  hard  run  to  give  me  this  sight  of  you. ' ' 

We  were  surprised  and  delighted,  for  the  speaker 
was  John  Baptiste  who  had  wintered  with  us  in  the 
Sierras.  We  asked  him  to  dismount,  take  a  seat  under 
the  tree,  and  let  us  bring  him  a  glass  of  milk.  He  de- 
clined graciously,  then  with  a  pleased  expression,  drew 
a  small  brown-paper  parcel  from  his  trousers  pocket 
and  handed  it  to  us,  leaned  forward,  clasped  his  arms 
about  his  pony,  rested  his  head  on  its  neck,  and  smil- 
ingly watched  Georgia  unwrap  it,  and  two  beautiful 
bunches  of  raisins  come  to  view, —  one  for  each.  He 
would  not  touch  a  single  berrj^  nor  let  us  save  any. 
He  asked  us  to  eat  them  then  and  there  so  that  he  could 
witness  our  enjoyment  of  the  luxury  he  had  provided 
for  this,  our  first  meeting  in  the  settlement. 

Never  had  we  seen  raisins  so  large,  translucent,  and 
delicious.  They  seemed  far  too  choice  for  us  to  have, 
and  John  was  so  poorly  dressed  and  pinched  in  fea- 
tures that  we  hesitated  about  eating  them.  But  he 
would  have  his  way,  and  in  simple  language  told  us 
that  he  wanted  them  to  soften  the  recollection  of  the 
hungry  time  when  he  came  into  camp  empty-handed 
and  discouraged.    Also  to  fulfil  his  assurance  to  our 

r  220  1 


MEMORY  OF  THE  DEAD 

mother  that  he  would  try  to  keep  us  in  sight,  and  give 
us  of  the  best  that  he  could  procure.  His  last  injunc- 
tions were,  ''  Be  good  little  girls;  always  remember 
your  mother  and  father;  and  don^t  forget  John 
Baptiste/^ 

He  was  gone  when  grandma  got  back;  and  she  was 
very  serious  when  told  what  had  occurred  in  her  ab- 
sence. She  rarely  spoke  to  us  of  our  mother,  and 
feared  it  might  lessen  our  affection  for  herself,  if 
others  kept  the  memory  of  the  dead  fresh  in  our  minds. 

There  were  many  other  happenings  before  the  year 
closed,  that  caused  me  to  think  a  great  deal.  Grandpa 
spent  less  time  at  the  shop ;  he  bought  himself  a  fleet- 
footed  horse  which  he  named  Antelope,  and  came  home 
oftener  to  talk  to  grandma  about  money  they  had 
loaned  Major  Prudon  to  send  to  China  for  merchan- 
dise, also  about  a  bar-room  which  he  was  fitting  up 
near  the  butcher-shop,  for  a  partner.  Next,  he  bought 
faithful  Charlie,  a  large  bay  horse,  with  friendly  eyes, 
and  long  black  mane  and  tail;  also  a  small  blue  farm 
wagon  in  which  Georgia  and  I  were  to  drive  about  the 
fields,  when  sent  to  gather  loose  bark  and  dry  brandies 
for  baking  fires. 

We  were  out  for  that  purpose  the  day  that  we  saw 
grandpa  ride  away  to  the  mines,  but  we  missed  seeing 
Jakie  steal  off,  with  his  bunch  of  cows.  He  felt  too 
badly  to  say  good-bye  to  us. 

I  was  almost  heart-broken  when  I  learned  that  he 
was  not  coming  back.  He  had  been  my  comforter  in 
most  of  my  troubles,  had  taught  me  to  ride  and  drive 

[221] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

the  horse,  shown  me  the  wood  duck 's  nest  in  the  hollow 
of  our  white  oak  tree,  and  the  orioles'  pretty  home 
swinging  from  a  twig  in  the  live  oak,  also  where  the 
hig  white-faced  owls  lived.  He  had  helped  me  to  gather 
wild  flowers,  made  me  whistles  from  branches  cut  from 
the  pussy  willows,  and  had  yodeled  for  me  as  joyfully 
as  for  loved  ones  in  his  Alpine  home.  Everything  that 
he  had  said  and  done  meant  a  great  deal  more  to  me 
now,  and  kept  him  in  mind,  as  I  went  about  alone,  or 
with  grandma,  doing  the  things  that  had  been  his  to 
do.  She  now  moulded  her  cheeses  in  smaller  forms, 
and  we  had  fewer  cows  to  milk. 

When  the  season  for  collecting  and  drying  herbs 
came,  Georgia  and  I  had  opportunity  to  be  together 
considerably.  It  was  after  we  had  picked  the  first  dry- 
ing of  sage  and  were  pricking  our  fingers  on  the  saf- 
fron pods,  that  grandma,  in  passing,  with  her  apron 
full  of  Castilian  rose  petals,  stopped  and  announced 
that  if  we  would  promise  to  work  well,  and  gather  the 
sage  leaves  and  saffron  tufts  as  often  as  necessary, 
she  would  let  us  go  to  a  ''  real  school  "  which  was 
about  to  open  in  town. 

Oh,  dear!  to  go  to  school,  to  have  books  and  slate 
and  pencil!  What  more  could  be  wished?  Yes,  we 
would  get  up  earlier,  work  faster  before  time  to  go, 
and  hurry  home  after  lessons  were  over.  And  I  would 
carry  the  book  Aunt  Lucy  had  given  me.  It  was  all 
arranged,  and  grandma  went  to  town  to  buy  slates, 
pencils,  speller,  and  a  stick  of  wine-colored  ribbon  to 
tie  up  our  hair. 

r2221 


AMEEICAN  SCHOOL  IN  SONOMA 

When  the  anticipated  hour  came,  there  were  great 
preparations  that  we  might  be  neat  and  clean  and 
ready  on  time.  Our  hair  was  parted  in  four  equal 
divisions ;  the  front  braids,  tied  with  ribbon,  formed  a 
U  at  the  back  of  the  neck;  and  we  wore  new  calico 
dresses  and  sunbonnets,  and  carried  lunch  for  two  in 
a  curious  little  basket,  which  grandma  must  have 
brought  with  her  from  Switzerland.  Joyfully  we 
started  forth  to  the  first  American  school  opened  in 
Sonoma. 

Alas !  it  was  not  what  our  anticipations  had  pictured. 
The  schoolroom  was  a  dreary  adobe,  containing  two 
rows  of  benches  so  high  that,  when  seated,  we  could 
barely  touch  the  earthen  floor  with  our  toes.  The 
schoolmaster  told  us  that  we  must  hold  our  slates  on 
our  laps,  and  our  open  books  in  the  right  hand,  and 
not  look  at  the  pictures,  but  study  all  the  time,  and  not 
speak,  even  to  each  other,  without  permission.  His 
face  was  so  severe,  his  eyes  so  keen,  and  his  voice  so 
sharp  that  I  was  afraid  of  him. 

He  had  a  chair  with  a  back  to  it,  and  a  table  to  hold 
his  books ;  yet  he  spent  most  of  his  time  walking  about 
with  a  narrow  strap  of  rawhide  in  his  hand,  and  was 
ever  finding  some  one  whose  book  drooped,  or  who 
was  whispering;  and  the  stinging  bite  of  that  strap 
would  call  the  erring  to  order. 

The  Misses  Boggs,  Lewis,  Smith,  and  Bone  were 
pretty  young  ladies,  and  brought  their  own  chairs  and 
a  table  to  sit  around;  and  when  they  whispered,  the 
master  never  saw  them ;  and  when  they  missed  in  les- 

\  223  ] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

sons,  he  did  n  't  keep  them  in,  nor  make  them  s-tand  on 
the  floor. 

I  learned  my  lessons  well  enough,  but  grandma  was 
terribly  shocked  because  I  got  strapped  nearly  every 
day.  But  then,  I  sat  between  Georgia  and  the  other 
little  girls  in  our  row,  and  had  to  deliver  messages 
from  those  on  both  sides  of  me,  as  well  as  to  whisper 
a  little  on  my  own  account.  Finally,  grandma  declared 
that  if  I  got  a  whipping  next  day,  she  would  give  me 
a  second  one  after  reaching  home.  So  I  started  in  the 
morning  with  the  intention  of  being  the  best  girl  in 
school;  but  we  had  hardly  settled  in  line  for  our 
first  lesson,  when  Georgia  whispered  behind  her  book, 
*^  Eliza,  see!  Mary  Jane  Johnson  has  got  my  nice 
French  card,  with  the  double  queens  on  it,  and  I  can't 
get  it.'' 

Forgotten  were  my  good  resolutions.  I  leaned  out 
of  line,  and  whispered  louder  than  I  meant,  ^^  Mary 
Jane  Johnson,  that  is  my  sister's  card,  and  you  must 
give  it  back  to  her. ' ' 

She  saw  the  master  watching,  but  I  did  not,  until 
he  called  me  to  hold  out  my  hand.  For  once,  I  begged, 
'^  Please  excuse  me;  I  won't  do  it  again."  But  he 
wouldn't,  and  I  felt  greatly  humiliated,  because  I 
knew  the  large  girls  had  heard  me  and  were  smiling. 

After  recess,  a  new  boy  arrived,  little  Willie  Mc- 
Cracken,  whom  we  had  seen  on  the  plains,  and  known 
at  Sutter's  Fort,  and  he  knew  us  as  soon  as  he  reached 
his  seat  and  looked  around.  In  a  short  time,  I  nudged 
Georgia,  and  asked  her  if  I  hadn't  better  roll  him  the 

r  224 1 


THE  SCHOOL  BROKEN  UP 

little  knot  of  dried  apples  that  grandma  had  put  in 
the  basket  for  my  lunch.  She  said,  yes,  if  I  wanted 
to.  So  I  wiggled  the  basket  from  under  the  seat  witii 
my  foot,  and  soon  thereafter,  my  bit  of  hospitality 
was  on  its  way  to  the  friend  I  was  glad  to  see  again. 

Instead  of  his  getting  it,  however,  the  master  stepped 
down  and  picked  it  up,  with  the  hand  that  did  n't  have 
the  strap  in  it.  So,  instead  of  being  the  best,  I  was 
the  worst  child  in  school,  for  not  one  had  ever  before 
received  two  strappings  in  a  forenoon. 

It  must  have  been  our  bad  day,  for  Georgia  felt  her 
very  first  bite  from  the  strap  that  afternoon,  and  on 
the  way  home  volunteered  not  to  tell  on  me,  if  grandma 
did  not  ask.  Yet  grandma  did,  the  first  thing.  And 
when  Georgia  reluctantly  said,  ^*  Yes,''  grandma 
looked  at  me  and  shook  her  head  despairingly;  but 
when  I  announced  that  I  had  already  had  two  strap- 
pings, and  Georgia  one,  she  burst  out  laughing,  and 
said  she  thought  I  had  had  enough  for  one  day. 

A  few  weeks  later,  the  large  boys  drove  the  master 
out  of  school  on  account  of  his  cruelty  to  a  little  fellow 
who  had  played  truant. 

In  that  dingy  schoolroom,  Georgia  and  I  later  at- 
tended the  first  Protestant  Sunday  school  and  church 
service  held  in  Sonoma. 


[225] 


CHAPTER  XXV 

FEVEB  PATIENTS  FROM  THE  MINES UXMARKED  GRAVES 

THE     TALES    AND     TAUNTS     THAT     WOUNDED    MY    YOUNG 
HEART. 

ASHOET  experience  in  the  mines  cured  grandpa 's 
''  mining  fever,"  but  increased  his  rheumatism. 
The  accounts  he  brought  of  sufferings  he  had  witnessed 
in  the  camps  prepared  us  for  the  approaching  au- 
tumn ^s  work,  when  many  of  the  happy  fellows  who 
had  started  to  the  gold-fields  in  vigorous  health  and 
with  great  expectations  returned  haggard,  sick,  and 
out  of  luck. 

Then  was  noble  work  done  by  the  pioneer  women. 
No  door  was  closed  against  the  needy.  However  small 
the  house  might  be,  its  inmates  had  some  comfort  to 
offer  the  stranger.  Many  came  to  grandma,  saying 
they  had  places  to  sleep  but  begging  that  she  would 
give  them  food  and  medicine  until  they  should  be  able 
to  proceed  to  San  Francisco. 

Weary  mortals  dragged  their  aching  limbs  to  the 
benches  under  her  white  oak  tree,  dropped  upon  them, 
with  blankets  still  across  their  shoulders,  declaring 
they  could  not  go  another  rod.  Often,  she  turned  her 
face  aside  and  murmured,  **  God  help  the  poor  wan- 
derers '';  but  to  them  she  would  say  encouragingly, 

[226] 


CAEING  FOR  FEVER  PATIENTS 

*'  You  be  not  very  sick,  you  will  soon  be  rested.  There 
be  straw  in  the  stack  that  we  will  bring  for  your  bed, 
and  me  and  the  children  will  let  you  not  go  hungry/' 

Ere  long,  beds  had  to  be  made  on  the  floor  of  the  un- 
finished house.  More  were  needed,  and  they  were 
spread  under  the  great  white  oak. 

On  a  block  beside  each  fever  patient  stood  a  tin  cup, 
which  Georgia  and  I  were  charged  to  keep  full  of  cold 
water,  and  it  was  pitiful  to  see  the  eyes  of  the  sick 
watch  the  cooling  stream  we  poured.  Our  patients 
eagerly  grasped  the  cup  with  unsteady  hands,  so  that 
part  of  its  contents  did  not  reach  the  parched  lips. 
Often,  we  heard  the  fervid  prayer,  '^  God  bless  the  wo- 
men of  this  land,  and  bless  the  children  too!  '^ 

Soon  we  learned  to  detect  signs  of  improvement, 
and  were  rejoiced  when  the  convalescents  smiled  and 
asked  for  more  to  eat.  Grandma  carried  most  of  the 
food  to  them  and  sent  us  later  for  the  empty  dishes. 

Of  the  many  who  came  to  us  that  season,  there  was 
but  one  who  never  proceeded  on  his  way.  He  was  a 
young  German,  fair  of  face,  but  terribly  wasted  by 
disease.  His  gentle,  boyish  manner  at  once  made  hhn 
a  favorite,  and  we  not  only  gave  him  our  best  care,  but 
when  a  physician  drifted  into  town,  grandma  sent  for 
him  and  followed  his  directions.  I  remember  well  the 
day  that  John  seemed  almost  convalescent,  relished 
his  breakfast,  wanted  to  talk  a  while,  and  before  we 
left  him,  had  us  bring  him  a  basin  of  warm  water  and 
his  beflowered  carpet  bag,  from  which  he  took  a  change 
of  clothing  and  his  shaving  outfit. 

r  227  1 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

When  we  saw  him  later,  his  hair  was  smoothly 
combed ;  he  looked  neat  and  felt  encouraged,  and  was 
sure  that  he  should  soon  be  up  and  doing  for  himself. 
At  nightfall,  grandma  bade  us  wipe  the  dishes  quickly 
as  possible,  at  which  Georgia  proposed  a  race  to  see 
whether  she  could  wash  fast  enough  to  keep  us  busy, 
and  we  got  into  a  frolicsome  mood,  which  grandma 
put  an  end  to  with  the  sobering  remark : 

^^  Oh,  be  not  so  worldly-minded.  John  ist  very  bad 
to-night.  I  be  in  a  hurry  to  go  back  to  him,  and  you 
must  hold  the  candle. ' ' 

We  passed  out  into  the  clear  cold  starlight,  with  the 
burning  candle  sheltered  by  a  milk  pan,  and  picked 
cur  way  between  the  lumber  to  the  unfinished  room 
where  John  lay.  I  was  the  last  to  enter,  and  saw 
grandma  hurriedly  give  the  candle  to  Georgia,  drop 
upon  her  knees  beside  the  bed,  touch  his  forehead,  lift 
his  hand,  and  call  him  by  name.  The  damp  of  death 
was  on  his  brow,  the  organs  of  speech  had  lost  their 
power.  One  long  upward  look,  a  slight  quivering  of 
the  muscles  of  the  face,  and  we  were  alone  with  the 
dead.  I  was  so  awed  that  I  could  scarcely  move,  but 
grandma  wept  over  him,  as  she  prepared  his  body  for 
burial. 

The  next  afternoon,  we  three  and  grandpa  and  a  few 
friends  followed  him  to  his  final  resting-place.  After 
he  was  gone,  grandma  remembered  that  she  did  not 
know  his  name  in  full,  the  land  of  his  birth,  nor  the 
address  of  his  people.  Expecting  his  recovery,  she 
had  not.  troubled   him   with   questions,   and   the  few 

r  228  1 


TALES  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

trinkets  in  his  carpet  bag  yielded  no  identifying  clue. 
So  he  lies  in  a  nameless  grave,  like  countless  other 
youth  of  that  period. 

We  had  patients  of  every  type,  those  who  were  ap- 
preciative and  grateful,  and  those  who  rebelled  against 
confinement,  and  swore  at  the  pain  which  kept  sleep 
from  their  eyes,  and  hurled  their  things  about  regard- 
less of  consequences.  The  most  trying  were  the 
chronic  grumblers,  who  did  not  know  what  they 
wanted,  nor  what  they  ought  to  have,  and  adopted 
the  moody  refrain: 

But  the  happy  times  are  over, 

I've  only  grief  and  pain, 
For  I  shall  never,  never  see 

Susannah  dear  again. 

The  entrance  of  Georgia  and  myself  would  occa- 
sionally turn  their  thoughts  into  homeward  channels, 
and  make  them  reminiscent  of  their  little  children  and 
loved  ones  ^^back  in  the  States."  Then,  again,  our 
coming  would  set  them  to  talking  about  our  early  dis- 
aster and  such  horrible  recounts  of  happenings  in  the 
snow-bound  camps  that  we  would  rush  away,  and  poor 
Georgia  would  have  distressing  crying  spells  over 
what  we  had  heard. 

At  first  no  tears  dimmed  my  eyes,  for  I  felt,  with 
keen  indignation,  that  those  wounding  tales  were  false ; 
but  there  came  hours  of  suffering  for  me  later,  when 
an  unsympathetic  soldier,  nicknamed  *^  Picayune  But- 
ler," engaged  me  in  conversation  and  set  me  to 
thinking. 

[229] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

He  was  a  great  big  man  with  eyes  piercing  as  a 
hawk's,  and  lips  so  thin  that  they  looked  like  red  lines 
on  his  face,  parting  and  snapping  together  as  he  re- 
peated the  horrible  things  he  had  read  in  The  Califor- 
nia Star.  He  insisted  that  the  Donner  Party  was  re- 
sponsible for  its  own  misfortune;  that  parents  killed 
their  babies  and  ate  their  bodies  to  keep  themselves 
alive ;  cut  off  the  heads  of  companions  and  called  them 
good  soup  bones ;  and  were  as  thievish  as  sneaking  In- 
dians, even  stealing  the  strings  from  the  snowshoes  of 
those  who  had  come  to  their  rescue.  He  maintained 
that  Keseberg  had  murdered  my  mother  and  mutilated 
my  dead  father's  body;  and  that  he  himself  felt  that 
the  miserable  wretches  brought  from  starvation  were 
not  worth  the  price  it  had  cost  to  save  them. 

Too  young,  too  ignorant,  and  too  distressed  to  dis- 
prove the  accusations  or  resent  his  individual  views, 
I  could  only  take  refuge  behind  what  I  had  heard  and 
seen  in  camp,  and  declare,  **  I  know  it  is  not  true; 
they  were  good  people,  and  loved  their  babies,  and 
were  sorry  for  everybody." 

How  could  I  believe  his  cruel  words!  While  I  had 
come  from  the  mountains  remembering  most  clearly 
the  sufferings  from  cold,  hunger,  thirst,  and  pitiful 
surroundings,  I  had  also  brought  from  there  a  child's 
mental  picture  of  tenderest  sympathies  and  bravest 
self-denials,  evinced  by  the  snowbound  in  my  father's 
camp,  and  of  Mrs.  Murphy's  earnest  effort  to  soothe 
and  care  for  us  three  little  sisters  after  we  had  been 
deserted  at  the  lake  cabins  by  Cady  and  Stone;  also 

[  230  ]      • 


STORY  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

her  motherly  watchfulness  over  Jimmie  Eddy,  Georgia 
Foster,  and  her  own  son  Simon,  and  of  Mn  Eddy's 
constant  solicitude  for  our  safety  on  the  journey  over 
the  mountains  to  Sutter's  Fort.  Vain,  however,  my 
efforts  to  speak  in  behalf  of  either  the  dead  or  the  ab- 
sent; every  attempt  was  met  by  the  ready  assertion, 
*^  You  can't  prove  anything;  you  were  not  old  enougli 
to  remember  or  understand  what  happened." 

Oh,  how  I  longed  to  be  grown,  to  have  opportunities 
to  talk  with  those  of  the  party  who  were  considered 
old  enough  to  remember  facts,  and  would  answer  the 
questions  I  wanted  to  ask ;  and  how  firmly  I  resolved 
that  when  I  grew  to  be  a  woman  I  would  tell  the  story 
of  my  party  so  clearly  that  no  one  could  doubt  its 
truth! 


[2311 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

3L THE  BOND  OF 

KINDKED IN  JACKET  AND  TROUSEKS CHUM  CHARLIE. 

GRANDMA  had  a  fixed  price  for  table  board,  but 
would  not  take  pay  for  medicines,  nor  for  at- 
tendance on  the  sick;  consequently,  many  of  her 
patients,  after  reaching  San  Francisco,  sent  thank 
offerings  of  articles  useful  and  pleasing  to  her.  Thus, 
also,  Sister  Georgia  and  I  came  into  possession  of 
Ijretty  calico,  Swiss,  and  delaine  dresses,  and  shoes 
that  filled  our  hearts  with  pride,  for  they  were  of  Mor- 
occo leather,  a  red  and  a  green  pair  for  each.  We  had 
seen  finely  dressed  Spanish  children  wear  such  shoes, 
but  never  supposed  that  we  should  be  so  favored. 

After  the  first  dresses  were  finished,  there  came  a 
Sunday  when  I  was  allowed  to  go  to  the  Mission 
Church  with  Kitty  Purcell,  the  baker's  little  daughter, 
and  I  felt  wonderfully  fine  in  my  pink  calico  frock, 
flecked  with  a  bird's-eye  of  white,  a  sunbonnet  to 
match,  and  green  shoes. 

The  brilliantly  lighted  altar,  decked  with  flowers, 
the  priests  in  gorgeous  vestments,  the  acolyte  with  the 
swinging  censer,  and  the  intoned  service  in  foreign 
tongue,  were  bewildering  to  me.  My  eyes  wandered 
from  the  clergy  to  the  benches  upon  which  sat  the  rich 

r  232  1 


PRECIOUS  GIFTS 

and  the  great,  then  back  to  the  poor,  among  whom  I 
was  kneeling.  Each  humble  worshipper  had  spread 
a  bright-bordered  handkerchief  upon  the  bare  floor  as 
a  kneeling  mat.  I  observed  the  striking  effect,  tlieii 
recollecting  my  shoes,  put  my  hand  back  and  drew 
up  the  hem  of  my  dress,  that  my  two  green  beauties 
might  be  seen  by  the  children  behind  me.  No  seven- 
year-old  child  ever  enjoyed  finery  more  than  I  did 
those  little  shoes. 

Gifts  which  grandma  considered  quite  unsuitable 
came  one  day  in  two  neat  wooden  boxes  about  thirty 
inches  in  length,  and  eight  in  width  and  depth.  They 
were  addressed  to  us  individually,  but  in  grandma's 
care.  When  she  removed  the  cover  and  a  layer  of 
cotton  batting  from  Georgia's,  a  beautiful  French 
lady-doll  was  revealed,  exquisitely  dressed,  with  a 
spray  of  flowers  in  her  hair,  and  another  that  looped 
one  side  of  her  lovely  pink  skirt  sufficiently  high  to 
display  an  elaborately  trimmed  petticoat.  She  was  so 
fine  in  lace  and  ribbons,  yes,  even  watch  and  chain, 
that  grandma  was  loath  to  let  us  touch  her,  and  in- 
sisted she  should  be  handled  in  the  box. 

My  gift  was  a  pretty  young  Swiss  matron  in  holiday 
attire,  really  more  picturesque,  and  quite  as  costly  as 
Georgia's,  but  lacking  that  daintiness  which  made  tlie 
lady-doll  untouchable.  I  had  her  to  hug  and  look  at 
only  a  few  moments ;  then  both  boxes  with  their  prec- 
ious contents  were  put  away  for  safe  keeping,  and 
brought  forth  only  on  state  occasions,  for  the  inspec- 
tion of  special  visitors. 

[233] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

Grandma  did  not  want  any  nonsense  put  into  onr 
heads.  She  wished  ns  to  be  practical,  and  often  quoted 
maxims  to  the  effect  that,  ^*  As  the  twig  is  bent,  the 
tree  's  inclined  "  ;  **  All  work  is  ennobling  if  well 
done  '*  ;  **  Much  book-learning  for  girls  is  not  condu- 
cive to  happiness  or  success  '  *  ;  and  ^ '  The  highest  aim 
of  a  girl  should  be  honesty,  chastity,  and  industry. '  ^ 

Still,  she  was  so  pleased  when  I  could  write  a  little 
with  ink  and  quill,  that  she  dictated  several  letters  to 
Jakie,  who  was  in  the  dairy  business  near  Stockton; 
and  in  an  unguarded  moment  she  agreed  that  I  should 
attend  Miss  Doty's  school.  Then  she  hesitated.  She 
wished  to  treat  us  exactly  alike,  yet  could  not  spare 
both  at  the  same  time.  Finally,  as  a  way  out  of  the 
difficulty,  she  decided  that  we  should  attend  school  al- 
ternate months,  during  the  summer;  and  that  my  sis- 
ter, being  the  elder,  should  begin  the  course. 

It  seemed  to  me  that  Georgia's  month  at  school 
would  never  end.  My  own  sped  faster  than  I  wished. 
Miss  Doty  helped  me  with  my  lessons  during  part  of 
the  noon  hour,  and  encouragingly  said,  "  Be  patient, 
keep  trying,  and  you  will  gain  your  reward. ' ' 

While  still  her  pupil,  I  wrote  my  long-planned  letter 
to  Aunt  Elizabeth.  Georgia  helped  to  compose  it,  and 
when  finished,  we  carried  it  to  our  friend,  the  post- 
master. He  banteringly  held  it  in  his  hand,  until  we 
told  its  contents  and  begged  that  it  go  to  Aunt  Eliza- 
beth as  fast  as  possible.  He  must  have  seen  that  it 
was  in^rrectly  addressed,  yet  he  readily  promised 
that  if  an  answer  should  come  addressed  to  ^^  Miss 

[234] 


BEEAKING  FAMILY  TIES 

Georgia  Ann  Donner,"  or  to  '*  Miss  Eliza  Poor  Don- 
ner,'^  he  would  carefully  save  it  for  us. 

After  many  fruitless  trips  to  the  post-office,  we  were 
one  day  handed  a  letter  for  grandma.  It  was  not  from 
our  aunt,  however,  but. from  our  sister  Elitlia,  and 
bore  the  sad  news  that  her  husband,  while  on  the 
range,  had  been  thrown  from  his  horse,  and  lived  but 
a  few  moments  after  she  reached  him.  She  also  stated 
that  her  little  daughter  Elisabeth  and  her  sister  Le- 
anna  were  with  her  on  the  ranch,  and  that  she  was  anx- 
ious to  learn  how  Georgia  and  I  were  getting  on. 

By  advice  of  short-sighted  friends,  grandma  sent 
a  very  formal  reply  to  the  letter,  and  told  us  that  she 
did  not  want  Elitha  to  write  again.  Moreover,  that 
we,  in  gratitude  for  what  she  had  done  for  us,  should 
take  her  name  and  call  her  ^^  mother.'* 

This  endeavor  to  destroy  personal  identity  and  fam- 
ily connection,  met  with  pathetic  opposition.  Of  our 
own  accord,  we  had  called  her  grandma.  But 
'  ^  mother  ' '  —  that  name  was  sacred  to  her  wiio  had 
taught  our  infant  lips  to  give  it  utterance !  We  would 
bestow  it  on  no  other. 

Under  no  circumstance  was  there  difficulty  in  find- 
ing some  one  ready  to  advise  or  help  to  plan  our 
d.uties.  With  the  best  of  intentions?  Yes,  but  often, 
oh,  how  trying  to  us,  poor  little  waifs  of  misfortune ! 

One,  like  a  thorn  in  the  flesh,  was  apportioned  to 
me  at  the  approach  of  the  Winter  of  1849  and  1850. 
We  needed  more  help  in  the  dairy,  but  could  get  no 
one  except  Mr.  Marsh,  who  lived  in  bachelor  quarters 

[  235  ] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

half  a  mile  south  on  the  creek  bank.  He  drove  in  the 
bunch  of  cows  found  in  the  mornings  grazing  on  their 
homeward  way,  but  was  too  old  to  follow  after  tho^e 
on  the  range.  Moreover,  he  did  not  know  how  to  milk. 
Grandma,  therefore,  was  obliged  to  give  up  going  after 
the  cows  herself.  She  hesitated  about  sending  us 
alone,  for  of  late  many  stragglers  had  been  seen  cross- 
ing the  valley,  and  also  Indians  loitering  about.  Fur- 
thermore, Georgia  was  again  coughing  badly. 

At  a  loss  what  to  do,  she  discussed  the  situation 
with  a  neighbor,  who  after  reflection  asked, 

^^  Why  not  dress  Eliza  in  boy^s  clothes  and  put  her 
on  old  Charlie!  '' 

Grandma  threw  up  her  hands  at  the  bare  sugges- 
tion. It  was  scandalous,  improper!  Why,  she  had 
even  taught  me  to  shun  the  boys  of  the  village.  How- 
ever, she  felt  differently  later  in  the  day  when  she 
called  me  to  her.  But  in  vain  was  coaxing,  in  vain  was 
scolding,  I  refused  positively  to  don  boy's  clothing. 

Then  she  told  in  strictest  confidence  that  Georgia 
was  very  frail,  would  probably  die  young,  certainly 
would  not  reach  twenty-five;  and  I  ought  not  to  hes- 
itate at  what  would  make  her  life  easier.  Still,  if  I 
had  no  regard  for  my  sister's  comfort,  she  would  be 
compelled  to  send  us  together  afoot  after  the  cows, 
and  the  exposure  might  be  very  bad  for  Georgia. 
This  was  enough.  I  would  wear  the  hated  clothes  and 
my  little  sister  should  never  learn  from  me  the  se- 
riousness of  her  condition,  lest  it  should  hasten  her 
death. 

[  236  ] 


DOING  A  BOY'S  TASK 

My  suit  of  brown  twill,  red  flannel  shirt,  boots,  and 
sou'wester,  with  ear  muffs  attached,  were  ready  for 
me  before  the  heaviest  winter  storm.  The  jacket  and 
trousers  were  modelled  for  a  boy  of  nine,  instead  of 
a  girl  not  yet  eight,  but  grandma  assured  me  that  be- 
ing all  wool,  the  rain  would  soon  shrink  them  to  my 
size,  also  that  the  boots,  which  were  too  wide  in  the 
heel  and  hurt  my  toes,  would  shape  themselves  to  my 
feet  and  prevent  the  old  frost  bites  from  returning. 

I  was  very  unhappy  while  she  helped  me  to  dress, 
and  pinned  up  my  braids,  and  hid  them  under  my 
storm  hat;  and  I  was  absolutely  wretched  when  she 
kissed  me  and  said, 

""  It  would  be  hard  to  find  a  prettier  little  boy  than 
you  are." 

After  again  admonishing  me  to  let  no  one  on  the 
range  know  I  was  a  girl,  and  to  answer  all  questions 
civilly  and  ride  on  quickly  after  my  string  of  cows, 
she  promised  that  if  I  helped  her  thus  through  the 
short  days  of  the  rainy  season,  she  would  give  back 
my  ''  girl  clothes  ''  in  the  Spring,  and  never  again 
ask  me  to  wear  others. 

She  led  me  to  where  Charlie  was  tied  to  a  tree.  I 
stepped  on  to  a  block,  from  there  to  a  stump,  put 
my  foot  into  the  stirrup,  and  clumsily  raised  myself 
into  the  seat  of  an  old  dragoon  saddle.  My  eyes  were 
too  full  of  tears  to  see,  but  grandma  put  the  reins  in 
my  hand  and  started  me  away.  Away  where?  To 
drive  up  the  cows?  Yes, —  and  into  wider  fields  of 
Hiought  than  she  recked. 

r  237 1 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

After  I  got  beyond  our  road,  I  stopped  Charlie,  and 
made  him  turn  his  face  toward  mine,  and  told  him  all 
that  had  happened,  and  just  how  I  felt.  The  good  old 
horse  seemed  to  understand,  for  no  friend  could  be 
more  faithful  than  Charlie  thenceforth  proved  to  me. 
He  learned  to  separate  our  cows  from  the  many 
strange  ones  on  the  plain;  to  move  faster  when  it 
rained ;  to  choose  the  crossings  that  were  safe ;  and  to 
avoid  the  branches  that  might  scrape  me  from  his 
back.  Grandma  was  pleased  to  learn  that  drivers  on 
the  range,  when  inquiring  about  strays,  addressed  me 
as  *'  Bubble. '^  My  humiliation,  however,  was  so  great 
that,  though  Georgia  and  I  were  room-mates,  and  had 
secret  day  meetings,  I  never  went  near  her  when 
others  were  by. 

She  was  allowed  to  play  oftener  with  neighbors' 
children,  and  occasionally  spent  a  week  or  more  with 
Mrs.  Bergwald,  helping  her  to  care  for  her  little 
daughter.  While  away,  she  learned  fine  needlework, 
had  fewer  crying  spells,  and  was  more  contented  than 
at  home  with  grandma. 

This  happiness  in  her  life  added  much  to  mine,  and 
it  came  to  pass  that  the  duty  which  had  seemed  such 
a  bitter  task,  became  a  pleasure.  As  the  days  length- 
ened, chum  Charlie  and  I  kept  earlier  hours,  and  crept 
closer  to  the  heart  of  nature.  We  read  the  signs  of 
the  day  in  the  dawn  tints;  watched  the  coyotes  and 
other  night  prowlers  slink  back  to  their  lairs;  saw 
where  the  various  birds  went  to  housekeeping,  and 
how  they  cared  for  their  young;  knew  them  also  by 

r  238  1 


AGAIN  IN  ''  GIRL  CLOTHES  " 

their  call  and  song.  We  could  show  where  Johnnie- 
jump-ups  and  baby-blue-eyes  grew  thickest;  where  the 
cream  cups  were  largest;  and  where  the  wild  forget- 
me-nots  blossomed.  We  explored  each  nook  and  corner 
for  miles  around,  and  felt  that  everything  that  God 
had  made  and  man  had  not  put  his  mark  upon  was  ours. 

The  aged  boughs  heaped  by  the  wind  in  wild  con- 
fusion about  the  maimed  and  storm-beaten  tree-trunks 
seemed  to  assume  fantastic  shapes  and  expressions 
as  we  approached  from  different  directions,  or  viewed 
them  under  light  and  shadow  of  changing  weather. 
Gnarled  and  twisted,  they  became  elves  and  goblins, 
and  the  huge  piles  of  storm  wreckage  were  trans- 
formed into  weird  old  ruins  and  deserted  castles  like 
those  which  grandma  had  described  to  me  in  legends 
of  the  Rhine.  At  twilight  I  was  often  afraid  to  pass, 
lest  giants  and  ghosts  should  show  themselves  be- 
tween uncanny  arches.  Then  all  that  was  needed  was 
a  low  cluck  to  Charlie,  and  off  he  would  start  on  a 
run  past  imaginary  dangers. 

It  was  late  in  the  Spring  when  grandma  gave  back 
my  '  *  girl  clothes  ' '  and  wearily  told  me  she  had  hired 
a  boy  to  drive  in  the  cows,  and  a  man  to  help  to  milk ; 
and  that  Georgia  was  to  look  after  the  house,  and  I  to 
take  her  own  place  in  the  corrals,  because  she  was  sick 
and  would  have  to  be  cupped  and  bled  before  she  could 
be  better. 

Grandpa  came  home  early  next  day  and  everything 
was  ready  for  the  treatment  immediately  after  the 
noon  meal.     Grandma  looked  so  grave,  and  gave  so 

[  239  ] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

many  instructions  about  household  and  dairy  matters, 
that  Georgia  and  I  feared  that  we  might  lose  her.  I 
verily  believe  we  would  have  slipped  away  during  the 
operation,  had  grandpa  not  commanded  us  to  stay 
near,  as  he  might  need  assistance.  In  dread  we 
watched  every  movement,  saw  what  made  grandma's 
face  pale,  and  where  the  sore  spots  were.  Indeed  our 
sympathies  were  so  strained,  our  fingers  fumbled  awk- 
wardly as  we  adjusted  the  covers  about  her  weakened 
form. 

As  soon  as  her  illness  became  known,  neighbors 
came  from  far  and  near  to  help  with  the  dairy  work 
or  nursing;  and  keen  was  their  disappointment  when 
she  replied,  *^  I  thank  you  for  your  kind  oifers,  but 
the  children  are  handy  and  know  my  ways.'' 

Regularly  she  asked  me  about  the  cows,  and  if  the 
goats  had  been  milked,  the  eggs  gathered,  and  the 
pigs  fed.  She  remembered  and  planned  the  work,  but 
did  not  regain  strength  as  rapidly  as  she  wished;  nor 
did  she  resume  her  place  in  the  corrals,  even  after  she 
was  up  and  around,  but  had  a  way  of  coming  unex- 
pectedly to  see  if  her  instructions  were  being  carried 
out. 

One  day  she  became  quite  angry  on  finding  me  talk- 
ing with  a  stranger.  He  was  well  dressed  and  spoke 
like  a  gentleman,  touched  his  hat  as  she  drew  near 
and  remarked,  **  This  little  girl  tells  me  she  is  an 
orphan,  and  that  you  have  been  very  kind  to  her." 
Grandma  was  uncivil  in  her  reply,  and  he  went  away. 
Then  she  warned  me,  ^*  Beware  of  wolves  in  sheep's 

[2401 


FRIENDLY  GREETINGS 

clothing, ' '  and  insisted  that  no  man  wearing  such  fine 
clothes  and  having  such  soft  hands  could  earn  an  hon- 
est living.  I  did  not  repeat  what  he  had  told  me  of  hh. 
little  daughter,  who  lived  in  a  beautiful  home  in  New 
York,  and  was  about  my  age,  and  had  no  sister;  and 
his  wish  that  I  were  there  with  her.  I  could  not  un- 
derstand what  harm  there  was  in  his  questions  or  my 
answers.  Did  I  not  remind  him  of  his  own  little 
girl!  And  had  I  not  heard  lonely  miners  tell  of  times 
when  they  gladly  would  have  walked  ten  miles  to  shake 
hands  and  talk  a  few  moments  with  a  child? 


241] 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

CAPT.  FRISBIE WEDDING  FESTIVITIES THE  MASTERPIECE 

OF  grandma's  youth SENORA  VALLEJO JAKIE 's  RE- 
TURN   HIS    DEATH A    CHEROKEE     INDIAN     WHO     HAD 

STOOD  BY    MY   FATHER 's   GRAVE. 

CAPTAIN  FRISBIE  spent  much  time  in  Sonoma 
after  Company  H  was  disbanded,  and  observing 
ones  remarked  that  the  attraction  was  Miss  Fannie 
Vallejo.  Yet,  not  until  1851  did  the  General  consent 
to  part  with  his  first-born  ^anghter.  Weeks  before 
the  marriage  day,  friends  began  arriving  at  the  bride's 
home,  and  large  orders  came  to  grandma  for  dairy 
supplies. 

She  anticipated  the  coming  event  with  interest  and 
pleasure,  because  the  prolonged  and  brilliant  festivities 
would  afford  her  an  opportunity  to  display  her  fancy 
and  talent  in  butter  modelling.  For  the  work,  she  did 
not  charge,  but  simply  weighed  the  butter  for  the  de- 
signs and  put  it  into  crocks  standing  in  cold  water 
in  the  adobe  store-house  where,  in  the  evenings,  after 
candle-light,  we  three  gathered. 

Her  implements  were  a  circular  hardwood  board, 
a  paddle,  a  set  of  small,  well  pointed  sticks,  a  thin- 
bladed  knife,  and  squares  of  white  muslin  of  various 
degrees  of  fineness.     She  talked  and  modelled,   and 

[242] 


THE  PRAISE  OF  NAPOLEON 

we  listening  watched  the  fascinating  process ;  saw  her 
take  the  plastic  substance,  fashion  a  duck  with  duck- 
lings on  a  pond,  a  lamb  curled  up  asleep,  and  a 
couched  lion  with  shaggy  head  resting  upon  his  fore- 
paws.  We  watched  her  press  beads  of  proper  size 
and  color  into  the  eye  sockets ;  skilfully  finish  the  base 
upon  which  each  figure  lay ;  then  twist  a  lump  of  butter 
into  a  square  of  fine  muslin,  and  deftly  squeeze,  until 
it  crinkled  through  the  meshes  in  form  of  fleece  for 
the  lamb's  coat,  then  use  a  different  mesh  to  produce 
the  strands  for  the  lion's  mane  and  the  tuft  for  the 
end  of  his  tail. 

In  exuberant  delight  we  exclaimed,  *^  Oh,  grandma, 
how  did  you  learn  to  make  such  wonderful  things!  " 

**  I  did  not  learn,  it  is  a  gift,"  she  replied. 

Then  she  spoke  of  her  modelling  in  childhood,  and 
her  subsequent  masterpiece,  which  had  won  the  com- 
mendation of  Napoleon  and  Empress  Josephine. 

At  that  auspicious  time,  she  was  but  eighteen  years 
of  age,  and  second  cook  in  the  principal  tavern  of 
Neuchatel,  Switzerland.  Georgia  and  I  sat  entranced, 
as  with  animated  words  and  gestures  she  pictured  the 
appearance  of  the  buglers  and  heralds  who  came 
weeks  in  advance  to  announce  the  date  on  which  tlie 
Emperor  and  Empress  would  arrive  in  that  town  and 
dine  at  the  tavern ;  then  the  excitement  and  enthusias- 
tic preparations  which  followed.  She  described  the 
consultations  between  the  Her r  Wirth  and  the  Frau 
Wirthin  and  their  maids;  and  how,  finally,  Marie's 
butter-piece  for  the  christening  feast  of  the  cliild  of 

[243] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

the  Herr  Graf  was  remembered ;  and  she,  the  lowly 
second  cook,  was  told  that  a  corner  in  the  cellar  would 
be  set  apart  for  her  especial  use,  and  that  she  should 
have  her  evenings  to  devote  to  the  work,  and  three 
grosclien  (seven  and  a  half  cents)  added  to  her  week's 
wages,  if  she  would  produce  a  fitting  centrepiece  for 
the  Emperor's  table. 

Five  consecutive  nights,  she  designed  and  modelled 
until  the  watchman's  midnight  cry  drove  her  from 
work,  and  at  three  o'clock  in  the  morning  of  the  sixth 
day,  she  finished.  And  what  a  centrepiece  it  was  I 
It  required  the  careful  handling  of  no  less  than  three 
persons  to  get  it  in  place  on  the  table,  where  the  Em- 
jjeror  might  see  at  a  glance  the  groups  of  figures  along 
the  splendid  highway,  which  was  spanned  by  arches 
and  terminated  with  a  magnificently  wrought  gate- 
way, surmounted  by  His  Majesty's  coat  of  arms. 

We  scarcely  winked  as  we  listened  to  the  rest  of  the 
happenings  on  that  memorable  day.  She  recounted 
how  she  had  dropped  everything  at  the  sound  of 
martial  music  and  from  the  tiny  open  space  at  the 
window  caught  glimpses  of  the  passing  pageant — ■ 
of  the  royal  coaches,  of  the  maids  of  honor,  of  Jo- 
sephine in  gorgeous  attire,  of  the  snow-white  poodle 
snuggled  close  in  the  Empress's  arms.  Then  she  told 
how  she  heard  a  heavy  thud  by  the  kitchen  fire,  which 
made  her  rush  back,  only  to  discover  that  the  head 
cook  had  fallen  to  the  floor  in  a  faint! 

She  gave  the  quick  call  which  brought  the  Fran 
Wirthin  to   the   scene   of  confusion,  where   in  mute 

[244] 


THE  EMBARRASSMENT  OF  MARIE 

agony,  she  looked  from  servant  to  servant,  until,  with 
hands  clasped,  and  eyes  full  of  tears,  she  implored, 
' '  Marie,  take  the  higher  place  for  the  day,  and  with 
God's  help,  make  no  mistake.'' 

Then  she  went  on  to  say  that  while  the  dinner  was 
being  served,  the  Emperor  admired  the  butter-piece, 
and  on  hearing  that  it  was  the  work  of  a  young  maid- 
servant in  the  house,  commanded  that  she  be  brouglit 
in  to  receive  commendation  of  himself  and  the  Em- 
press. Again  the  Frau  Wirthin  rushed  to  the  kitchen 
in  great  excitement,  and  —  knowing  that  Marie's  face 
was  red  from  heat  of  the  fire,  that  she  was  nervous 
from  added  responsibilities,  and  not  dressed  for  pres- 
entation—  cried  with  quivering  lips: 

^'  Ah,  Marie!  the  butter-piece  is  so  grand,  it  brings 
us  into  trouble.  The  great  Emperor  asks  to  see  thee, 
and  thou  must  come!  " 

She  told  how  poor,  red-faced,  bewildered  Marie 
dropped  her  ladle  and  stared  at  the  speaker,  then 
rolled  down  her  sleeves  while  the  Frau  Wirthin  tied 
her  own  best  white  apron  around  her  waist,  at  the 
same  time  instructing  her  in  the  manner  in  which  she 
must  hold  her  dress  at  the  sides,  between  thumb  and 
forefinger,  and  spread  the  skirt  wide,  in  making  a  low, 
reverential  bow.  But  Marie  was  so  upset  that  she  real- 
ized only  that  her  heart  was  beating  like  a  trip-hammer, 
and  her  form  shaking  like  an  aspen  leaf,  while  being  led 
before  those  august  personages.  Yet,  after  it  was  all 
over,  she  was  informed  that  the  Emperor  and  Em- 
press had  spoken  kindly  to  her,  and  that  she,  herself, 

[245] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

had  made  her  bow  and  backed  out  of  the  room  ad- 
mirably for  one  in  her  position,  and  ought  to  feel  that 
the  great  honor  conferred  upon  her  had  covered  with 
glory  all  the  ills  and  embarrassments  she  had  suffered. 

To  impress  us  more  fully  with  the  importance  of 
that  event,  grandma  had  Georgia  and  me  stand  up  on 
our  cellar  floor  and  learn  to  make  that  deferential  bow, 
she  by  turns,  taking  the  parts  of  the  Frau  Wirthin, 
the  Emperor,  and  the  Empress. 

She  now  finished  her  modelling  with  a  dainty,  cen- 
trepiece for  the  bride's  table,  and  let  me  go  with  her 
when  she  carried  it  to  the  Yallejo  mansion.  It  gave 
great  satisfaction;  and  while  the  family  and  guests 
were  admiring  it,  Senora  Vallejo  took  me  by  the  hand, 
saying  in  her  own  musical  tongue,  ''  Come,  little 
daughter,  and  play  while  you  wait." 

She  led  me  to  a  room  that  had  pictures  on  the  walls, 
and  left  me  surrounded  by  toys.  But  I  could  not 
play.  My  eyes  wandered  about  until  they  became  riv- 
eted on  one  corner  of  the  room,  where  stood  a  child's 
crib  which  looked  like  gold.  Its  head  and  foot  boards 
were  embellished  with  figures  of  angels ;  and  a  canopy 
of  lace  like  a  fleecy  cloud  hovered  over  them.  The 
bed  was  white,  but  the  pillows  were  covered  with  pink 
silk  and  encased  in  slips  of  linen  lawn,  exquisite  with 
rare  needlework.  I  touched  it  before  I  left  the  room, 
wondering  what  the  little  girl  dreamed  in  that  beauti- 
ful bed ;  and  on  the  way  home,  grandma  and  I  discussed 
all  these  things. 

The  linen  pillow-slips  were  as  fine  as  those  Sefiorita 

[246] 


THE  EETURN  OF  JAKIE 

Isabella  Fitch  showed  me,  when  she  gave  me  the  few 
highly  prized  lessons  in  simple  drawn-work;  and  her 
cousin,  Seiiorita  Leese,  had  taught  me  hemming. 
These  young  ladies  were  related  to  the  Vallejos  and 
also  lived  in  large  houses  facing  the  plaza,  and  were 
always  kind  to  Georgia  and  me.  In  fact,  some  of  my 
sweetest  memories  of  Sonoma  are  associated  with 
these  three  Spanish  homes.  Their  people  never  asked 
unfeeling  questions,  nor  repeated  harrowing  tales ;  and 
I  did  not  learn  until  I  was  grown  that  they  had  been 
among  the  large  contributors  to  the  fund  for  the  relief 
of  our  party. 

I  have  a  faint  recollection  of  listening  to  the  chimes 
of  the  wedding  bells,  and  later,  of  hearing  that  Cap- 
tain Frisbie  had  taken  his  bride  away;  but  that  is  all, 
for  about  that  time  dear  old  Jakie  returned  to  us  in 
ill  health,  and  our  thoughts  and  care  turned  to  him. 
He  was  so  feeble  and  wasted  that  grandma  sent  for  the 
French  jjhysician  who  had  recently  come  among  us. 
Even  he  said  that  he  feared  that  Jakie  had  stayed 
away  too  long.  After  months  of  treatment,  the  doctor 
shook  his  head  saying:  ^^  I  have  done  my  best  with 
the  medicines  at  hand.  The  only  thing  that  remains 
to  be  tried  is  a  tea  steeped  from  the  nettle  root.  That 
may  give  relief. '^ 

As  soon  as  we  could  get  ready  after  the  doctor  ut- 
tered those  words,  Georgia  and  I,  equipped  with  hoe, 
large  knife,  and  basket  were  on  our  way  to  the  Sonoma 
River.  We  had  a  full  two  miles  and  a  half  to  walk, 
but  did  not  mind  that,  because  we  were  going  for  some- 

\  247  1 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

thing  that  might  take  Jakie's  pains  away.  Georgia 
was  to  press  down  the  nettle  stems  with  a  stick,  while 
I  cut  them  off  and  hoed  up  the  roots. 

The  plants  towered  luxuriantly  above  our  heads, 
making  the  task  extremely  painful.  No  sooner  would 
I  commence  operations  than  the  branches,  slipping 
from  under  the  stick,  would  brush  Georgia's  face,  and 
strike  my  hands  and  arms  with  stinging  force,  and  by 
the  time  we  had  secured  the  required  number  of  roots, 
we  were  covered  with  fiery  welts.  We  took  off  our 
shoes  and  stockings,  waded  into  the  stream  and  bathed 
our  faces,  hands,  and  arms,  then  rested  and  ate  the 
lunch  we  had  brought  with  us. 

As  we  turned  homeward,  we  observed  several  In- 
dians approaching  by  the  bushy  path,  the  one  in  front 
staggering,  and  his  squaw  behind,  making  frantic  mo- 
tions to  us  to  hurry  over  the  snake  fence  near-by. 
This  we  did  as  speedily  as  possible,  and  succeeded  none 
too  soon;  for  as  we  reached  the  ground  on  the  safe 
side,  he  stopped  us,  and  angrily  demanded  the  con- 
tents of  our  basket.  We  opened  it,  and  when  he  saw 
what  it  contained  he  stamped  his  wabbling  foot  and 
motioned  us  to  be  off.  We  obeyed  with  alacrity,  for  it 
was  our  first  experience  with  a  drunken  Indian,  and 
greatly  alarmed  us. 

The  tea  may  have  eased  Jakie  's  pain,  but  it  did  not 
accomplish  what  we  had  hoped.  One  morning  late  in 
Summer,  he  asked  grandpa  to  bring  a  lawyer  and  wit- 
nesses so  that  he  could  make  his  will.  This  request 
made  us  all  move  about  very  quietly  and  feel  very 

[  248  ] 


THE  CHEROKEE  WOMAN  »S  TALE 

serious.  After  the  lawyer  went,  away,  grandma  told 
us  that  Jakie  had  willed  us  each  fifty  dollars  in  gokl, 
and  the  rest  of  his  property  to  grandpa  and  herself. 
A  few  weeks  later,  when  the  sap  ceased  flowing  to  the 
branches  of  the  trees,  and  the  yellow  leaves  were  fall- 
ing, we  laid  Jakie  beside  other  friends  in  the  oak 
grove  within  sight  of  our  house. 

Grandma  put  on  deep  mourning,  but  Georgia  and  I 
had  only  black  sunbonnets,  which  we  wore  with  heart- 
felt grief.  The  following  Spring  grandpa  had  the 
grave  enclosed  with  a  white  paling;  and  we  children 
planted  Castilian  rose  bushes  at  the  head  and  foot  of 
the  mound,  and  carried  water  to  them  from  the  house, 
and  in  time  their  branches  met  and  the  grave  was  a 
bed  of  fragrant  blossoms. 

One  day  as  I  was  returning  from  it  with  my  empty 
pail,  a  tidy,  black-eyed  woman  came  up  to  me  and  said, 

'*  I  'm  a  Cherokee  Indian,  the  wife  of  one  of  the 
three  drovers  that  sold  the  Brunners  them  long-horned 
cattle  that  was  delivered  the  other  day.  I  know  who 
you  are,  and  if  you  '11  sit  on  that  log  by  me,  I  '11  tell 
you  something." 

We  took  the  seats  shaded  by  the  fence  and  she  con- 
tinued with  unmistakable  pride:  **  I  can  read  and 
write  quite  a  little,  and  me  and  the  men  belong  to  the 
same  tribe.  We  drove  our  band  of  cattle  across  tlie 
plains  and  over  the  Sierras,  and  have  sold  them  for 
more  than  we  expected  to  get.  We  are  going  back 
the  same  road,  but  first  I  wanted  to  see  you  little  girls. 
I  heard  lots  about  your  father's  party,  and  how  you 

f  249  ] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

all  suffered  in  the  mountains,  and  that  no  one  seems 
to  remember  what  became  of  his  body.  Now,  child, 
I  tell  the  truth.  I  stood  by  your  father's  grave  and 
read  his  name  writ  on  the  headboard,  and  come  to 
tell  you  that  he  was  buried  in  a  long  grave  near  his 
own  camp  in  the  mountains.  I  'm  glad  at  seeing  you, 
but  am'  going  away,  wishing  you  was  n  't  so  cut  off 
from  your  own  people. '^ 

So  earnest  was  she,  that  I  believed  what  she  told 
me,  and  was  sorry  that  I  could  not  answer  all  her 
questions.  We  parted  as  most  people  did  in  those 
days,  feeling  that  the  meeting  was  good,  and  the  part- 
ing might  be  forever. 


[250] 


CHAPTEE  XXVIII 

ELITHA,  FKANCES,  AND  MR.   MILLER  VISIT  US MRS.  BRUX- 

XER    CLAIMS    US    AS    HER    CHILDREN THE    DAGUERREO- 
TYPE. 

THE  Spring-tide  of  1852  was  bewitcliingly  beauti- 
ful; hills  and  plain  were  covered  with  wikl 
flowers  in  countless  shapes  and  hues.  They  were  so 
friendly  that  they  sprang  up  in  dainty  clusters  ch)se 
to  the  house  doors,  or  wherever  an  inch  of  ground 
would  give  them  foothold. 

They  seemed  to  call  to  me,  and  I  looked  into  their 
bright  faces,  threw  myself  among  them,  and  hugged 
as  many  as  my  arms  could  encircle,  then  laid  my  ear 
close  to  the  ground  to  catch  the  low  sound  of  moving 
leaf  and  stem,  or  of  the  mysterious  ticking  in  the 
earth,  which  foretells  the  coming  of  later  plants. 
Sometimes  in  my  ecstasy,  I  would  shut  my  eyes  and  lie 
still  for  a  while,  then  open  them  inquiringly,  to  as- 
sure myself  that  all  my  favorites  were  around  me 
still,  and  that  it  was  not  all  a  day-dream. 

This  lovely  season  mellowed  into  the  Summer  whicli 
brought  a  most  unexpected  letter  from  our  sister 
Frances,  who  had  been  living  all  these  years  with  tlie 
family  of  Mr.  James  F.  Reed,  in  San  Jose.  Childlike, 
she  wrote: 

[251] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  BONNER  PARTY 

I  am  happy,  but  there  has  not  been  a  day  since  I  left 
Sutter's  Fort  that  I  haven't  thought  of  my  little  sisters  and 
wanted  to  see  them.  Hiram  Miller,  our  guardian,  says  he 
will  take  me  to  see  you  soon,  and  Elitha  is  going  too. 

After  the  first  few  days  of  wondering,  grandma 
rarely  mentioned  our  prospective  visitors,  nor  did  she 
show  Georgia  or  me  the  letter  she  herself  had  re- 
ceived from  Elitha,  but  we  re-read  ours  until  we  knew 
it  by  heart,  and  were  filled  with  delightful  anticipa- 
tions. We  imagined  that  our  blue-eyed  sister  with  the 
golden  curls  would  look  as  she  did  when  we  parted, 
and  recalled  many  things  that  we  had  said  and  done 
together  at  the  Fort. 

I  asked  grandma  what  ^'  guardian  ''  meant,  and 
after  she  explained,  I  was  not  pleased  with  mine,  and 
dreaded  his  coming,  for  I  had  not  forgotten  how  Mr. 
Miller  had  promised  me  a  lump  of  sugar  that  night  in 
the  Sierras,  and  then  did  not  have  it  for  me  after  I 
had  walked  the  required  distance;  nor  could  I  quite 
forgive  the  severe  punishment  he  administered  next 
morning  because  I  refused  to  go  forward  and  cried  to 
return  to  mother  when  he  told  me  that  I  must  walk  as 
far  as  Georgia  and  Frances  did  that  day. 

Autumn  was  well  advanced  before  the  lumbering  old 
jjassenger  coach  brought  our  long-expected  guests  from 
the  emharcaderoj  and  after  the  excitement  of  the  meet- 
ing was  over,  I  stealthily  scanned  each  face  and  figure. 
Mr.  Miller's  stocky  form  in  coarse,  dark  clothes,  his 
cold  gray  eyes,  uneven  locks,  stubby  beard,  and  teeth 
and  lips  browned  by  tobacco  chewing,  were  not  un- 

[2-32] 


OUR  GUARDIAN,  MR.  MILLER 

familiar;  but  lie  looked  less  tired,  more  patient,  and 
was  a  kindlier  spoken  man  than  I  had  remembered. 

Elitha,  well  dressed,  tall,  slender,  and  regular  of 
feature,  had  the  complexion  and  sparkling  black  eyes 
which  mark  the  handsome  brunette.  I  was  more  sur- 
prised than  disappointed,  however,  to  see  that  the  girl 
of  twelve,  who  slipped  one  arm  around  Georgia  and 
the  other  around  me  in  a  long,  loving  embrace,  had 
nothing  about  her  that  resembled  our  little  sister 
Frances,  except  her  blue  eyes  and  motherly  touch. 

The  week  of  their  visit  was  joyous  indeed.  Many 
courtesies  were  extended  by  friends  with  whom  we 
had  travelled  from  time  to  time  on  the  plains.  One 
never-to-be-forgotten  afternoon  was  spent  with  the 
Boggs  family  at  their  beautiful  home  amid  orchard 
and  vineyard  near  the  foothills. 

On  Sunday,  the  bell  of  the  South  Methodist  Church 
called  us  to.  service.  In  those  days,  the  men  occupied 
the  benches  on  one  side  of  the  building,  and  the  women 
and  children  on  the  other;  and  I  noticed  that  several* 
of  the  young  men  found  difficulty  in  keeping  their  eyes 
from  straying  in  our  direction,  and  after  service,  more 
than  one  came  to  inquire  after  grandma's  health. 

Mr.  Miller  passed  so  little  time  in  our  company  that 
I  remember  only  his  arrival  and  his  one  serious  talk 
with  grandma,  when  he  asked  her  the  amount  due  her 
on  account  of  the  trouble  and  expense  we  two  children 
had  been  since  she  had  taken  us  in  charge.  She  told 
him  significantly  that  there  was  nothing  to  pay,  be- 
cause we  were  her  children,  and  that  she  was  abun- 

r  253  1 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

dantly  able  to  take  care  of  us.  In  proof,  she  handed 
him  a  daguerreotype  taken  the  previous  year. 

It  pictured  herself  comfortably  seated,  and  one  of 
us  standing  at  either  side  with  an  elbow  resting  upon 
her  shoulder,  and  a  chubby  face  leaning  against  the 
uplifted  hand.  She  was  arrayed  in  her  best  cap,  hand- 
some embroidered  black  satin  dress  and  apron,  lace 
sleeve  ruffs,  kerchief,  watch  and  chain.  We  were 
twin-like  in  lace-trimmed  dresses  of  light  blue  dimity, 
striped  with  a  tan-colored  vine,  blue  sashes  and  hair 
ribbons ;  and  each  held  a  bunch  of  flowers  in  her  hand. 
It  was  a  costly  trinket,  in  a  case  inlaid  with  pink  roses, 
in  mother  of  pearl,  and  she  was  very  proud  of  it. 

Grandma's  answer  to  Mr.  Miller  was  a  death-knell 
to  Elitha's  hopes  and  plans  in  our  behalf.  Her  little 
daughter  had  been  dead  more  than  a  year.  Sister 
Leanna  had  recently  married  and  gone  to  a  home  of 
her  own,  and  the  previous  week  the  place  made  vacant 
by  the  marriage  had  been  given  to  Frances,  with  the 
ready  approval  of  Hiram  Miller  and  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Reed.  She  had  now  come  to  Sonoma  hoping  that  if 
Mr.  Miller  should  pay  grandma  for  the  care  we  had 
been  to  her,  she  would  consent  to  give  us  up  in  order 
that  we  four  sisters  might  be  reunited  in  one  home. 
Elitha  now  foresaw  that  such  a  suggestion  would 
not  only  result  in  failure,  but  arouse  grandma's  an- 
tagonism, and  cut  off  future  communication  between 
us. 


[254] 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

EPIDEMIC ST. 

THANKSGIVING   DAY    IN    CALIFORNIA ANOTHER     BROTH- 
ER-IN-LAW. 

MRS.  BRUNNER  has  become  too  childish  to 
have  the  resijonsibility  of  young  girls," 
had  been  frequently  remarked  before  Elitha  's  visit ; 
and  after  her  departure,  the  same  friends  expressed 
regret  that  she  had  not  taken  us  away  with  her. 

These  whispered  comments,  which  did  not  improve 
our  situation,  suddenly  ceased,  for  the  smallpox  made 
its  appearance  in  Sonoma,  and  helpers  were  needed  to 
care  for  the  afflicted.  Grandma  had  had  the  disease 
in  infancy  and  could  go  among  the  patients  without 
fear.  In  fact,  she  liad  such  confidence  in  her  method 
of  treating  it,  that  she  would  not  have  Georgia  and  me 
vaccinated  while  the  epidemic  prevailed,  insisting  that 
if  we  should  take  the  disease  she  could  nurse  us 
through  it  without  disfigurement,  and  we  would  thence- 
forth be  immune.  She  did  not  expose  us  during  what 
she  termed  the  ^*  catching-stage,  *'  but  after  that  had 
passed,  she  called  us  to  share  her  work  and  become 
familiar  with  its  details,  and  taught  us  how  to  brew  the 
teas,  make  the  ointments,  and  apply  them. 

I  do  not  remember  a  death  among  her  patients,  and 

[  255  ] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

only  two  who  were  badly  disfigured.  One  was  our 
13retty  Miss  Sallie  Lewis,  who  had  the  dread  disease  in 
confluent  form.  Grandma  was  called  hurriedly  in  the 
night,  because  the  afflicted  girl,  in  delirium,  had  loos- 
ened the  straps  which  held  her  upon  her  bed,  and  while 
her  attendant  was  out  of  the  room  had  rushed  from 
the  house  into  the  rain,  and  was  not  found  until  after 
she  had  become  thoroughly  drenched.  Grandma  had 
never  before  treated  such  serious  conditions,  yet  strove 
heroically,  and  helped  to  restore  Miss  Sallie  to  health, 
but  could  not  keep  the  cruel  imprints  from  her  face. 

The  other  was  our  arch-enemy,  Castle,  who  seemed 
so  near  death  that  one  night  as  grandma  was  peering 
into  the  darkness  for  signal  lights  from  the  homes  of 
the  sick,  she  exclaimed  impulsively,  *  ^  Hark,  children ! 
there  goes  the  Catholic  bell.  Count  its  strokes.  Castle 
is  a  Catholic,  and  was  very  low  when  I  saw  him  to- 
day.'^  Together  we  slowly  counted  the  knells  until 
she  stopped  us,  saying,  ^'  It  's  for  somebody  else; 
Castle  is  not  so  old.'' 

She  was  right.  Later  he  came  to  us  to  recuperate, 
and  was  the  most  exacting  and  profane  man  we  ever 
waited  on.  He  conceived  a  special  grudge  against 
Georgia,  whom  he  had  caught  slyly  laughing  when  she 
first  observed  the  change  in  his  appearance.  Yet 
months  previous,  he  had  laid  the  foundation  for  her 
mirth. 

He  was  then  a  handsome,  rugged  fellow,  and  par- 
ticularly proud  of  the  shape  of  his  nose.  Frequently 
had  he  twitted  my  sensitive  sister  about  her  little  nose, 

r  256  1 


MRS.  BRUNNER,  GEORGIA  AND  ELIZA  DONNER 


OBANDMA  BRUNNER 

and  had  once  made  her  very  angry  in  the  presence  of 
others,  by  offering  to  tell  her  a  story,  then  continuing : 
'  ^  God  and  the  devil  take  turns  in  shaping  noses.  Now, 
look  at  mine,  large  and  finely  shaped.  This  is  God 's 
work ;  but  when  yours  was  growing,  it  was  the  devil  *s 
turn,  and  he  shaped  that  little  dab  on  your  face  and 
called  it  a  nose.'' 

Georgia  fled,  and  cried  in  anger  over  this  indignity, 
declaring  that  she  hated  Castle  and  would  not  be  sorry 
if  something  should  happen  to  spoil  his  fine  nose.  So 
when  he  came  to  us  from  the  .sick-room,  soured  and 
crestfallen  because  disease  had  deeply  pitted  and 
seamed  that  feature  which  had  formerly  been  his 
pride,  she  laughingly  whispered,  *^  Well,  I  don't  care, 
my  nose  could  never  look  like  his,  even  if  I  had  the 
smallpox,  for  there  is  not  so  much  of  it  to  spoil. ' ' 

Our  dislike  of  the  man  became  intense;  and  later, 
when  we  discovered  that  he  was  to  be  bartender  at 
grandpa's  bar,  and  board  at  our  house,  we  held  an  in- 
dignation meeting  in  the  back  yard.  This  was  more 
satisfaction  to  Georgia  than  to  me,  for  she  had  the 
pleasure  of  declaring  that  if  grandma  took  that  man 
to  board,  she  would  be  a  Schweitzer  child  no  longer, 
she  would  stop  speaking  German,  make  her  clothes  like 
American  children's;  and  that  she  knew  her  friend 
Mrs.  Bergwald  would  give  her  a  home,  if  grandma 
should  send  her  away. 

Here  the  meeting  was  suddenly  interrupted  by  the 
discovery  that  grandma  was  standing  behind  us.  We 
did  not  know  how  long  she  had  been  there  nor  liow 

[257] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

much  she  had  overheard,  nor  which  she  meant  to  strike 
with  the  switch  she  had  in  her  hand.  However,  we 
were  sitting  close  together  and  my  left  arm  felt  the 
sting,  and  it  aroused  in  me  the  spirit  of  rebellion.  I 
felt  that  I  had  outgrown  such  correction,  nor  had  I  de- 
served it ;  and  I  told  her  that  she  should  never,  never 
strike  me  again.     Then  I  walked  to  the  house  alone. 

A  few  moments  later  Georgia  came  up  to  our  room, 
and  found  me  dressing  myself  with  greatest  care.  In 
amazement  she  asked,  ^*  Eliza,  where  are  you  going!  '^ 
and  was  dumbfounded  when  I  answered,  * '  To  find  an- 
other home  for  us.'^ 

In  the  lower  hall  I  encountered  grandma,  whose  an- 
ger had  cooled,  and  she  asked  the  question  Georgia 
had.  I  raised  my  sleeve,  showed  the  welt  on  my  arm, 
and  replied,  ^^  I  am  going  to  see  if  I  can't  find  a  home 
where  they  will  treat  me  kindly. ' ' 

Poor  grandma  was  conscience-stricken,  drew  me  into 
her  own  room,  and  did  not  let  me  leave  it  until  after 
she  had  soothed  my  hurts  and  we  had  become  friends 
again. 

Georgia  went  to  Mrs.  Berg-wald's,  and  remained 
quite  a  while.  When  she  came  back  speaking  English, 
and  insisting  that  she  was  an  American,  grandma  be- 
came very  angry,  and  threatened  to  send  her  away 
among  strangers;  then  hesitated,  as  if  realizing  how 
fully  Georgia  belonged  to  me  and  I  to  her,  and  that  we 
would  cling  together  whatever  might  happen.  In  her 
perplexity,  she  besought  Mrs.  Bergwald's  advice. 

Now,  Mrs.  Bergwald  was  a  native  of  Stockholm,  a 

[  258  ] 


DR.  VER  MEHR'S  SCHOOL 

lady  of  rare  culture,  and  used  the  French  language  in 
conversing  with  grandma.  She  spoke  feelingly  of  my 
little  sister,  said  that  she  was  companionable,  willing, 
and  helpful ;  anxious  to  learn  the  nicer  ways  of  work, 
and  ladylike  accomplishments.  She  could  see  no  harm 
in  Georgia  wishing  to  remain  an  American,  since  to 
love  one's  own  people  and  country  was  natural. 

Thereafter  grandma  changed  her  methods.  She 
gave  us  our  dolls  to  look  at,  and  keep  among  our  pos- 
sessions, likewise  most  of  our  keepsakes.  She  also  un- 
locked her  carefully  tended  parlor  and  we  three  spent 
pleasant  evenings  there.  Sometimes  she  would  let 
us  bring  her,  from  under  the  sofa,  her  gorgeous  prints, 
illustrating  "•  Wilhelm  Tell,''  and  would  repeat  the 
text  relating  to  the  scenes  as  we  examined  each  picture 
with  eager  interest. 

We  were  also  allowed  to  go  to  Sunday  school 
oftener,  and  later,  she  sent  me  part  of  the  term  to  the 
select  school  for  girls  recently  established  by  Dr.  Ver 
Mehr,  an  Episcopalian  clergyman.  In  fact,  my  tuition 
was  expected  to  offset  the  school's  milk  bill,  yet  that 
did  not  lessen  my  enthusiasm.  I  was  eager  for  knowl- 
edge. I  also  expected  to  meet  familiar  faces  in  thai 
great  building,  which  had  been  the  home  of  Mr.  Jacob 
Leese.  But  upon  entering  I  saw  only  finely  dressed 
young  ladies  from  other  parts  of  the  State  promenad- 
ing in  the  halls,  and  small  girls  flitting  about  in  the 
yard  like  bright- winged  butterflies.  Some  had  received 
letters  from  home  and  were  calling  out  the  news; 
others  were  engaged  in  games  that  were  strange  to  me. 

[259]        • 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

The  bell  rang,  I  followed  to  the  recitation  hall,  and  was 
assigned  a  seat  below  the  rest,  because  I  was  the  only 
small  Sonoma  girl  yet  enrolled. 

I  made  several  life-long  friends  at  that  institute; 
still  it  was  easy  to  see  that  **  St.  Mary's  Hall  ''  was 
established  for  pupils  who  had  been  reared  in  the  lap 
of  wealth  and  ease;  not  for  those  whose  hands  were 
rough  like  mine.  Nor  was  there  a  class  for  me.  I 
seemed  to  be  between  grades,  and  had  the  discourage- 
ment of  trying  to  keep  up  with  girls  older  and  farther 
advanced. 

My  educational  advantages  in  Sonoma  closed  with 
my  half  term  at  St.  Mary's  Hall,  grandma  believing 
that  I  had  gone  to  school  long  enough  to  be  able  to  fin- 
ish my  studies  without  teachers. 

Georgia  was  more  fortunate.  When  Miss  Hutchin- 
son opened  *^  The  Young  Ladies'  Seminary  "  in  the 
Fall,  grandma  decided  to  lend  it  a  helping  hand  by 
sending  her  a  term  as  a  day  scholar.  My  delighted 
sister  was  soon  in  touch  with  a  crowd  of  other  little 
girls,  and  brought  home  many  of  their  bright  sayings 
for  my  edification. 

One  evening  she  rushed  into  the  house  bubbling 
over  with  excitement  and  joyously  proclaimed:  **  Oh, 
Eliza,  Miss  Hutchinson  is  going  to  give  a  great  dinner 
to  her  pupils  on  Thanksgiving  Day;  and  I  am  to  go, 
and  you  also,  as  her  guest." 

Grandma  was  pleased  that  I  was  invited,  and  de- 
clared that  she  would  send  a  liberal  donation  of  milk 
and  cheese  as  a  mark  of  appreciation. 

[260] 


THANKSGIVING  DAY  FEASTS 

I  caught  much  of  Georgia's  spirit  of  delight,  for  I 
had  a  vivid  recollection  of  the  grand  dinner  given  in 
commemoration  of  our  very  first  legally  appointed 
Thanksgiving  Day  in  California;  I  had  only  to  close 
my  eyes,  and  in  thought  would  reappear  the  longest 
and  most  bountifully  spread  table  I  had  ever  seen. 
Turkey,  chicken,  and  wild  duck,^  at  the  ends;  a  whole 
roasted  pig  in  the  centre,  and  more  than  enough  deli- 
cious accompaniments  to  cover  the  spaces  between. 
Then  the  grown  folk  dining  first,  and  the  flock  of  hun- 
gry children  coming  later ;  the  speaking,  laughing,  and 
clapping  of  hands,  with  which  the  old  home  customs 
were  introduced  in  the  new  land. 

There,  I  wore  a  dark  calico  dress  and  sunbonnet, 
both  made  by  poor  Mrs.  McGutchen  of  the  Donner 
Party,  who  had  to  take  in  sewing  for  a  livelihood ;  but 
to  the  Seminary,  I  should  wear  grandpa 's  gift,  a  costly 
alpaca,  changeable  in  the  sunlight  to  soft  mingling 
bluish  and  greenish  colors  of  the  peacock.  ;  Its  wide 
skirt  reached  to  my  shoetops,  and  the  gathers  to  itfe 
full  waist  were  gauged  to  a  sharp  peak  in  front.  A; 
wide  open  V  from  the  shoulder  down  to  the  peak  dis- 
played an  embroidered  white  Swiss  chemisette.  The. 
sleeves,  small  at  the  wrist,  werfe  trimmed  with  folds  of 
the  material  and  a  quilling  of  white  lace  at  the  hand. 

On  the  all-important  morning,  grandma  was  anxious^ 
that  I  should  look  well;  and  after  she  had  looped  myt 
braids  with  bows  of  blue  ribbon  and  fastened  my  dress, 
she  brought  forth  my  dainty  bonnet,  her  own  gift. 
Deft  fingers  had  shirred  the  pale-blue  silk  over  a  frame 

[261] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

which  had  been  cut  down  from  ladies'  size,  arranged 
an  exquisite  spray  of  Marechal  Niel  rosebuds  and  foli- 
age on  the  outside^  and  quilled  a  soft  white  ruching 
around  the  face,  which  emphasized  the  Frenchy  style 
and  finish  so  pleasing  to  grandma. 

Did  I  look  old  fashioned!  Yes,  for  grandma  said, 
*  *  Thou  art  like  a  picture  I  saw  somewhere  long  ago. ' ' 
Then  she  continued  brightly,  * '  Here  are  thy  mits,  and 
thy  little  embroidered  handkerchief  folded  in  a  square. 
Carry  it  carefully  so  it  won't  get  mussed  before  the 
company  see  it,  and  come  not  back  late  for  milking. ' ' 

The  Seminary  playground  was  so  noisy  with  chatter 
and  screams  of  joy,  that  it  was  impossible  to  remem- 
ber all  the  games  we  played ;  and  later  the  dining-room 
and  its  offerings  were  so  surprising  and  so  beautifully 
decorated  that  the  sight  nearly  deprived  me  of  my 
appetite. 

^*  Mumps.  Bite  a  pickle  and  see  if  it  ain't  so!  "  ex- 
claimed a  neighbor  to  whom  Georgia  was  showing  her 
painful  arid  swollen  face.  True  enough,  the  least  taste 
of  anything  sour  produced  the  tell-tale  shock.  But  the 
most  aggravating  feature  of  the  illness  was  that  it 
developed  the  week  that  sister  Elitha  and  Mr.  Benja- 
min W.  Wilder  were  married  in  Sacramento ;  and  when 
they  reached  Sonoma  on  their  wedding  tour,  we  could 
not  visit  with  them,  because  neither  had  had  the 
disease. 

They  came  to  our  house,  and  we  had  a  hurried  little 
talk  with  a  closed  window  between  us,  and  were  f  avor- 

[  262  ] 


BENJAMIN  W.  WILDER 

ably  impressed  by  our  tall  **  Brother  Ben,''  who  ha<l 
very  blue  eyes  and  soft  brown  hair.  He  was  the  second 
of  the  three  Wilder  brothers,  who  had  been  among  the 
early  gold-seekers,  and  tried  roughing  it  in  the  mines. 
Though  a  native  of  Rhode  Island,  and  of  Puritan  an- 
cestry, he  was  quite  Western  in  appearance. 

Though  not  a  wealthy  man,  he  had  a  competency, 
for  he  and  his  elder  brother  were  owners  of  an  undi- 
vided half  of  Ranchos  de  los  Cazadores  (three  leagues 
of  land  in  Sacramento  Valley),  which  was  well  stocked 
with  horned  cattle  and  good  horses.  He  was  also  in- 
terested in  a  stage  line  running  between  Sacramento 
and  the  gold  regions.  He  encouraged  Elitha  in  her 
wish  to  make  us  members  of  their  household,  and  the 
home  they  had  to  offer  us  was  convenient  to  public 
schools ;  yet  for  obvious  reasons  they  were  now  silent 
on  the  subject. 


[.263 1 


'  CHAPTER  XXX 

IDEALS    AND    LONGINGS THE    FUTURE CHRISTMAS. 

AT  .the  time  of  wliick  I  now  speak,  I  was  in  my  elev- 
enth year,  but  older  in  feeling  and  thought.  I 
had  ideals  and  wanted  to  live  up  to  them,  and  my  way 
was  blocked  by  difficulties.  Often,  in  the  cowyard,  I 
would  say  to  the  dumb  creatures  before  me, 

•^*  I  shall  milk  you  dry,  and  be  kind  to  you  as  long- 
as  I  stay;  but  I  shall  not  always  be  here  doing  this 
kind  of  work." 

These  feelings  had  been  growing  since  the  beginning 
of  grandpa's  partnership  in  that  bar-room.  Neither 
he  nor  grandma  saw  harm  in  the  business.  They  re- 
garded it  as  a  convenient  place  where  men  could  meet 
and  spend  a  social  evening,  and  where  strangers  might 
feel  at  home.  Yet,  who  could  say  that  harm  did  not 
emanate  from  that  bar!  I  could  not  but  wish  that 
grandpa  had  no  irterest  in  it.  I  did  not  want  to  blame 
him,  for  he  was  kind  by  nature,  and  had  been  more 
than  benefactor  to  Georgia  and  me. 

Fond  recollection  was  ever  bringing  to  mind  joys 
he  had  woven  into  our  early  childhood.  Especially 
tender  and  precious  thoughts  were  associated  with  that 
night  long  ago  when  he  hurried  home  to  inspect  a 
daguerreotype  that  had  just  been  taken.     Grandma 

[264]     ' 


GRANDPA  BRUNNER 

handed  it  to  him  with  the  complaisant  remark,  ''  Mine 
and  Georgia's  sind  fine;  but  Eliza's  shows  that  she  for- 
got herself  and  ist  watching  how  the  thing  ist  being 
made. " 

Grandpa  looked  at  it  in  silence,  observing  that 
grandma's  likeness  was  natural,  and  Georgia's  per- 
fect, in  fact,  pretty  as  could  be ;  while  I,  not  being  tall 
enough  to  rest  my  elbow  comfortably  upon  grandma 's 
shoulder,  stood  awkwardly  with  my  flowers  drooping 
and  eyes  turned,  intently  watching  in  the  direction  of 
the  operator.    Regretfully,  I  explained: 

**  Grandpa,  mine  was  best  two  times,  for  Georgia 
moved  in  the  first  one,  .and  grandma  in  the  next,  and 
the  pictureman  said  after  each,  *  We  must  try  again.' 
And  he  would  have  tried  yet  again,  for  me,  but  the  sun 
was  low,  and  grandma  said  she  was  sorry  but  this 
would  have  to  do." 

Lovingly,  he  then  drew  me  to  his  side,  saying, 
**  Never  mind,  mein  Schatz  (my  treasure) ;  let 
grandma  and  Georgia  keep  this,  and  when  that  picture- 
man  comes  back,  grandpa  will  sit  for  his  picture,  and 
thou  shalt  stand  at  his  knee.  He  '11  buy  thee  a  long 
gold  chain  to  wear  around  thy  neck,  and  thou  shalt  be 
dressed  all  in  white  and  look  like  an  angel." 

Being  younger  than  grandma,  and  more  fond  of 
amusements,  he  had  taken  us  to  many  entertainments ; 
notably.  Odd  Fellows'  picnics  and  dinners,  where  he 
wore  the  little  white  linen  apron,  which  we  tliought 
would  be  cute  for  our  dolls.  He  often  reminded 
grandma  that  she  should  teach  us  to  speak  the  high 

[265] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

German,  so  that  we  might  appear  well  among  gentle- 
folk ;  and  my  cherished  keepsakes  included  two  wee  gold 
dollars  and  a  fifty-cent  piece  of  the  same  bright  metal, 
which  he  had  given  me  after  fortunate  saies  from  the 
herds.  But  dearest  of  all  is  remembrance  of  the 
evening  long  ago  when  he  befriended  us  at  Sutter's 
Fort. 

Still,  not  even  those  tender  recollections  could  longer 
hold  in  check  my  resentment  against  the  influences 
and  associations  which  were  filtering  through  that  bar- 
room, and  robbing  me  of  companions  and  privileges 
that  I  valued.  More  than  -once  had  I  determined  to 
run  awa}^,  and  then  desisted,- knowing  that  I  should 
leave  two  lonely  old  people  grieving  over  my  seeming 
ingratitude.  This  question  of  duty  to  self  and  to  those 
who  had  befriended  me  haunted  my  working  hours, 
went  with  me  to  church  and  Sunday  school,  and  troub- 
led my  mind  when  I  was  supposed  to  be  asleep. 

Strange,  indeed,  would  it  have  seemed  to  me,  could 
I  then  have  known  that  before  my  thirtieth  year,  I 
should  be  welcomed  in  the  home  of  the  military  chief 
of  our  nation.  Strange,  also,  that  the  young  Lieuten- 
ant, William  Tecumseh  Sherman,  who  when  visiting  in 
Sonoma,  came  with  his  fellow-officers  to  the  Brunner 
farm,  should  have  attained  that  dignity.  Equally  im- 
possible would  it  have  been  then  to  conceive  that  in 
so  short  a  time,  I,  a  happy  mother  and  the  wife  of  a 
Congressional  Representative,  should  be  a  guest  at 
the  brilliant  receptions  of  the  foreign  diplomats  and 
at  the  Executive  Mansion  in  the  city  of  Washington. 

[  266  ] 


PLANNING  TO  RUN  AWAY 

Is  it  any  wonder  that  in  later  years  when  my  mind  re- 
verted to  those  days,  I  almost  questioned  my  identity ! 

Georgia's  return  from  Mrs.  Bergwald's  before 
Christmas  gave  me  a  chance  to  talk  matters  over  with 
her,  and  we  decided  that  we  must  leave  our  present 
surroundings.  Yet,  how  to  get  away,  and  when,  puz- 
zled us.  Our  only  hope  of  escape  seemed  to  be  to  slip 
off  together  some  moonlight  night. 

^^  But,"  my  sister  remarked  gravely,  '^  we  can't  do 
it  before  Christmas!  You  forget  the  white  flannel 
skirt  that  I  am  embroidering  for  grandma,  the  pillow- 
slips that  you  are  hemstitching  and  trimming  with  lace 
for  her;  and  the  beautiful  white  shirt  that  you  have 
for  grandpa." 

She  was  sure  that  not  to  stay  and  give  them  as  we 
had  planned,  would  be  as  bad  as  breaking  a  promise. 
So,  we  took  out  our  work  and  hid  ourselves  to  sew  a 
while. 

My  undertaking  was  not  so  large  or  elaborate  as 
hers,  and  when  I  finished,  she  still  had  quite  a  piece  to 
do,  and  was  out  of  floss.  She  had  pin-pricked  from  an 
embroidered  silk  shawl  on  to  strips  of  white  paper, 
the  outline  of  a  vine  representing  foliage,  buds,  and 
blossoms;  then  basted  the  paper  in  place  around  tlie 
skirt.  The  colors  were  shaded  green  and  pink.  Unable 
to  get  the  floss  for  the  blossoms,  she  had  bought  nar- 
row pink  silk  braid  and  outlined  each  rose  and  bud, 
then  embroidered  the  foliage  in  green.  Some  might 
have  thought  it  a  trifle  gaudy,  but  to  me  it  seemed 
beautiful,  and  I  was  proud  of  her  handiwork. 

[267] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

I  washed,  starched,  and  ironed  the  pillow-slips  while 
grandma  was  from  home,  and  they  did  look  well,  for 
I  had  taken  great  pains  in  doing  my  work.  Several 
days  before  the  appointed  time,  grandma,  in  great 
good  humor,  showed  us  the  dresses  she  had  been  hiding 
from  us ;  and  then  and  there,  like  three  children  unable 
to  keep  their  secrets  longer,  we  exchanged  gifts,  and 
were  as  pleased  as  if  we  had  waited  until  Christmas 
morning. 


[2681 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

THE    WIDOW    STEIN    AND    LITTLE    JOHNNIE 

OF  A  SAINTED  MOTHER  ^ ' ESTRANGEMENT  AND  DESOLA- 
TION   A   RESOLUTION  AND  A  VOW MY  PEOPLE  ARRIVE 

AND  PLAN  TO  BEAR  ME  AWAY. 

ON  the  first  of  September,  1855,  a  widow,  whom  I 
shall  call  Stein,  and  lier  little  son  Johnnie,  came 
to  visit  grandma.  She  considered  herself  a  friend  by 
reason  of  the  fact  that  she  and  her  five  children  had 
been  hospitably  entertained  in  our  home  two  years 
earlier,  upon  their  arrival  in  California.  For  grandpa 
in  particular  she  professed  a  high  regard,  because  her 
husband  had  been  his  bartender,  and  as  such  had 
earned  money  enough  to  bring  his  family  from  Eu- 
rope, and  also  to  pay  for  the  farm  which  had  come  to 
her  at  his  death. 

Mother  and  son  felt  quite  at  home,  and  in  humor  to 
enjoy  their  self-appointed  stay  of  two  weeks.  Despite 
her  restless  eye  and  sinister  smile,  she  could  be  affable ; 
and  although,  at  first,  I  felt  an  indescribable  misgiving 
in  her  presence,  it  wore  away,  and  I  often  amused 
Johnnie  while  she  and  grandma  talked. 

As  if  to  hasten  events,  Mrs.  Bergwald  had  sent  for 
Georgia  almost  at  the  beginning  of  the  visit  of  tlie 
Steins;  and  after  her  departure,  Mrs.  Stein  insisted 

[  269  ] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNEE  PAETY 

on  helping  me  with  the  chores,  and  then  on  my  sitting 
with  her  during  grandma's  busiest  hour. 

She  seemed  deeply  interested  in  California's  early 
history,  and  when  I  would  stop  talking,  she  would  ply 
me  with  questions.  So  I  told  her  how  poor  everybody 
was  before  the  discovery  of  gold;  how  mothers  would 
send  their  boys  to  grandma's  early  morning  fire  for 
live  coals,  because  they  had  no  matches  or  tinder 
boxes ;  how  neighbors  brought  their  coffee  and  spices 
to  grind  in  her  mills ;  how  the  women  gathered  in  the 
afternoons  under  her  great  oak  tree,  to  talk,  sew,  and 
eagerly  listen  to  the  reading  of  extracts  from  letters 
and  papers  that  had  come  from  friends  away  back  in 
the  States.  I  told  her  how,  in  case  of  sickness,  one 
neighbor  would  slip  over  and  cook  the  family  break- 
fast for  the  sick  woman,  others  would  drop  in 
later,  wash  the  dishes,  and  put  the  house  in  order ;  and 
so  by  turns  and  shares,  the  washing,  ironing,  and 
mending  would  be  done,  and  by  the  time  the  sick 
woman  would  be  up  and  around,  she  would  have  no 
neglected  work  to  discourage  her.  Also  we  talked  of 
how  flags  were  used  for  day  signals  and  lights  by 
night,  in  calls  for  help. 

Our  last  talk  was  on  Saturday  morning  between 
work.  She  questioned  me  in  regard  to  the  amount, 
and  location  of  the  property  of  the  Brunners,  then 
wanted  to  hear  all  about  my  sisters  in  Sacramento, 
and  wondered  that  we  did  not  go  to  live  with  them. 
I  explained  that  Elitha  had  written  us  several  times 
asking  us  to  come,  but,  knowing  that  grandma  would 

[2701 


A  READY  LISTENER 

be  displeased,  we  had  not  read  her  those  parts  of  tlie 
letters,  lest  she  forbid  our  correspondence  entirely. 
I  added  that  we  were  very  sorry  that  she  could  not 
like  those  who  were  dear  to  us. 

Finally,  having  exhausted  information  on  several 
subjects,  Mrs.  Stein  gave  me  a  searching  glance,  and 
after  a  marked  silence,  continued:  ^*  I  don't  wonder 
that  you  love  grandpa  and  grandma  as  much  as  you 
tell  me,  and  it  is  a  pity  about  these  other  things  that 
aren't  pleasant.  Don't  you  think  it  would  be  better 
for  you  to  live  with  your  sister,  and  grandma  could 
have  some  real  German  children  to  live  here?  She  is 
old,  and  can't  help  liking  her  own  kind  of  people  best." 

I  did  not  have  an  unkind  thought  in  mind,  yet  I  did 
confess  that  I  should  like  to  live  well  and  grow  up  to 
be  like  my  mother.  In  thoughtless  chatter  I  continued, 
that  more  nice  people  came  to  visit  grandma  and  to 
talk  with  us  before  the  town  filled  with  strangers,  and 
before  Americans  lived  in  the  good  old  Spanish  houses, 
and  before  the  new  churches  and  homes  were  built. 

She  led  me  to  speak  of  mother,  then  wondered  at  my 
vivid  recollection^,  since  I  had  parted  from  her  so 
young.  She  was  very  attentive  as  I  told  how  Georgia 
and  I  spoke  of  her  when  we  were  by  ourselves,  and 
that  friends  did  not  let  us  forget  her.  I  even  cited  a 
recent  instance,  when  the  teacher  had  invited  us,  and 
two  other  young  girls,  to  go  to  the  Vallejo  pear  or- 
chard for  all  the  fruit  we  wished  to  eat,  and  when  he 
offered  the  money  in  payment,  the  old  Spanish  gentle- 
man in  charge  said,  **  Pay  for  three." 

[271] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

**  But  we  are  five/'  said  the  teacher. 

Then  the  Don  blessed  himself  with  the  sign  of  the 
cross,  and  pointing  to  Georgia  and  me,  replied, 
**  Those  two  are  daughters  of  a  sainted  mother,  and 
are  always  welcome !  ' ' 

At  noon  grandma  told  me  that  she  and  the  Steins 
would  be  ready  to  go  down  town  immediately  after 
dinner,  and  that  I  must  wash  the  dishes  and  finish  bak- 
ing the  bread  in  the  round  oven.  We  parted  in  best  of 
humor,  and  I  went  to  work.  The  dishes  and  bread  re- 
ceived first  attention.  Then  I  scrubbed  the  brick  floor 
in  the  milk-house;  swept  the  store-room  and  front 
yard ;  gathered  the  eggs ,  fed  the  chickens,  and  rebuilt 
the  fire  for  supper.  I  fancied  grandma  would  be 
pleased  with  all  I  had  accomplished,  and  laughed  to 
myself  as  I  saw  the  three  coming  home  leaning  close 
to  each  other  in  earnest  conversation. 

To  my  surprise,  the  Steins  went  directly  to  their 
own  room ;  and  grandma  did  not  speak,  but  closed  her 
eyes  as  she  passed  me.  That  was  her  way,  and  I  knew 
that  it  would  be  useless  to  ask  what  had  offended  her. 
So  I  took  my  milk  pails,  and,  wondering,  went  to  the 
cow  corrals.  I  could  not  imagine  what  had  happened, 
yet  felt  hurt  and  uncomfortable. 

Returning  with  the  milk,  I  saw  Johnnie  playing  by 
the  tree,  too  near  the  horse's  feet,  and  warned  him. 
As  he  moved,  grandma  stepped  forward  and  stood  in 
front  of  me,  her  face  white  with  rage.  I  set  my  buck- 
ets down  and  standing  between  them  listened  as  she 
said  in  German: 

[  272  ] 


CHARGED  WITH  INGRATITUDE 

**  Oh,  false  one,  thou  didst  not  think  this  morning 
that  I  would  so  soon  find  thee  out.  Thou  wast  not 
smart  enough  to  see  that  my  friend,  Mrs.  Stein,  was 
studying  thee,  so  that  she  could  let  me  know  what  kind 
of  children  I  had  around  me.  And  thou,  like  a  snake 
in  the  grass,  hast  been  sticking  out  thy  tongue  behind 
my  back.  Thou  pretendest  that  thou  art  not  staying 
here  to  get  my  money  and  property,  yet  thou  couldst 
tell  her  all  I  had.  Thou  wouldst  not  read  all  in  the 
letters  from  thy  fine  sisters?  Thou  wouldst  rather 
stay  here  until  I  die  and  then  be  rich  and  spend  it  with 
them!  »' 

She  stopped  as  if  to  catch  her  breathy  and  I  could 
only  answer,  ^^  Grandma,  I  have  not  done  what  thou 
sayest.  *  * 

She  continued :  *  *  I  have  invited  people  to  come  here 
this  night,  and  thou  shalt  stand  before  them  and  listen 
while  I  tell  what  I  have  done  for  thee,  and  how  thou 
hast  thanked  me.  Now,  go,  finish  thy  work,  eat  thy 
supper,  and  come  when  I  call  thee.*' 

I  heard  her  call,  but  don't  know  how  I  got  into  the 
room,  nor  before  how  many  I  stood.  I  know  that  my 
head  throbbed  and  my  feet  almost  refused  to  support 
my  body,  as  I  listened  to  grandma,  who  in  forceful 
language  declared  that  she  had  taken  me,  a  starveling, 
and  reared  me  until  I  was  almost  as  tall  as  she  herself; 
that  she  had  loved  and  trusted  me,  and  taught  me 
everything  I  knew,  and  that  I  had  that  day  blackened 
the  home  that  had  sheltered  me,  wounded  the  hand  that 
had  fed  me,  and  proved  myself  unworthy  the  love  that 

[  273  ] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

had  been  showered  upon  me.  Mrs.  Stein  helped  her 
through  an  account  of  our  morning  chat,  misconstru- 
ing all  that  had  passed  between  us. 

I  remained  silent  until  the  latter  had  announced  that 
almost  the  first  thing  that  she  had  noticed  was  that 
we  children  were  of  a  selfish,  jealous  disposition,  and 
that  Georgia  was  very  cross  when  her  little  Johnnie 
came  home  wearing  a  hat  that  grandpa  had  bought 
him.  Then  I  turned  upon  her  saying,  **  Mrs.  Stein, 
you  forget  that  Georgia  has  not  seen  that  hat.  You 
know  that  grandma  bought  it  after  Georgia  went 
away." 

She  sprang  toward  me,  then  turned  to  grandma,  and 
asked  if  she  was  going  to  let  an  underling  insult  a 
guest  in  her  house. 

I  did  not  wait  for  the  reply.  I  fled  out  into  the  dark 
and  made  my  way  to  the  weird  old  tree-trunk  in  the 
back  yard.  Thence,  I  could  see  the  lights  from  the 
windows,  and  at  times  hear  the  sound  of  voices.  There, 
I  could  stand  in  the  starlight  and  look  up  to  the  heav- 
ens. I  had  been  there  before,  but  never  in  such  a  heart- 
sick and  forlorn  condition.  I  was  too  overwrought  to 
think,  yet  had  to  do  something  to  ease  the  tension.  1 
moved  around  and  looked  toward  Jakie's  grave,  then 
returned  to  the  side  of  the  tree-trunk  which  had  es- 
caped the  ravages  of  fire,  and  ran  my  finger  up  and 
down,  feeling  the  holes  which  the  red-headed  wood- 
pecker had  bored  and  filled  with  acorns. 

A  flutter  in  the  air  aroused  me.  It  was  the  old  white- 
faced  owl  leaving  the  hollow  in  the  live  oak  for  the 

[  274  ] 


PLANS  FOR  THE  FUTURE 

night's  Imnt.  I  faced  about  and  saw  her  mate  fly  after 
her.  Then  in  the  stillness  that  followed,  I  stretched 
both  arms  toward  heaven  and  cried  alond,  **  0  God, 
I  'm  all  alone ;  take  care  of  me !  ' ' 

The  spell  was  broken.  I  grew  calmer  and  began  to 
think  and  to  plan.  I  pictured  Georgia  asleep  in  a 
pretty  house  two  miles  away,  wondered  how  I  could 
get  word  to  her  and  what  she  would  say  when  told  that 
we  would  go  away  together  from  Sonoma,  and  not 
take  anything  that  grandpa  or  grandma  had' given  us. 

I  remembered  that  of  the  fund  which  we  had  started 
by  hemming  new,  and  washing  soiled  handkerchiefs 
for  the  miners,  there  still  remained  in  her  trunk  seven 
dollars  and  eighty-five  cents,  and  in  mine  seven  dollars 
and  fifty  cents.  If  this  was  not  enough  to  take  us  to 
Sacramento,  we  might  get  a  chance  as  Sister  Leanna 
had,  to  work  our  way. 

I  was  still  leaning  against  the  tree-trunk  when  the 
moon  began  to  peep  over  the  eastern  mountains,  and 
I  vowed  by  its  rising  that  before  it  came  up  in  its  full, 
Georgia  and  I  should  be  in  Sacramento. 

I  heard  grandma's  call  from  the  door,  which  she 
opened  and  quickly  closed,  and  I  knew  by  experience 
that  I  should  find  a  lighted  candle  on  the  table,  and 
that  no  one  would  be  in  the  room  to  say  good-night. 
I  slept  little,  but  when  I  arose  in  the  morning  I  was  no 
longer  trouble  tossed.  I  knew  what  I  would  say  to 
grandma  if  she  should  give  me  the  chance. 

Grandpa,  who  had  come  home  very  late,  did  not 
know  what  had  happened,  and  he  and  I  breakfasted 

r  275  1 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  CONNER  PARTY 

with  the  men,  and  grandma  and  the  Steins  came  after 
we  left  the  room.  No  one  offered  to  help  me  that 
morning,  still  I  got  through  my  duties  before  grandma 
called  me  to  her.  She  seemed  more  hurt  than  angry, 
and  began  by  saying : 

^^  On  account  of  thy  bad  conduct,  Mrs.  Stein  is  go- 
ing to  shorten  her  stay.  She  is  going  to  leave  on  Tues- 
day, and  wants  me  to  go  with  her.  She  says  that  she 
has  kept  back  the  worst  things  that  thou  hast  told 
about  me,  but  will  tell  them  to  me  on  the  road. ' ' 

Trembling  with  indignation,  I  exclaimed,  *^  Oh, 
grandma,  thou  hast  always  told  us  that  it  is  wrong  to 
speak  of  the  faults  of  a  guest  in  the  house,  but  what 
dost  thou  think  of  one  who  hath  done  what  Mrs.  Stein 
liath  done?  I  did  say  some  of  the  things  she  told  thee, 
but  I  did  not  say  them  in  that  way.  I  didn't  give 
them  that  meaning.  I  didn't  utter  one  unkind  word 
against  thee  or  grandpa.  I  have  not  been  false  to  thee. 
To  prove  it,  I  promise  to  stay  and  take  care  of  every- 
thing while  thou  goest  and  hearest  what  more  she  hath 
to  tell,  but  after  the  home-coming,  I  leave.  Nothing 
that  thou  canst  say  will  make  me  change  my  mind.  I 
am  thankful  for  the  home  I  have  had,  but  will  not  be 
a  burden  to  thee  longer.  I  came  to  thee  poor,  and  I 
will  go  away  poor." 

The  Brunner  conveyance  was  at  the  door  on  Tues- 
day morning  when  grandma  and  her  guest  came  out  to 
begin  their  journey.  Grandpa  helped  grandma  and 
the  widow  on  to  the  back  seat.  While  he  was  putting 
Johnnie  in  front  with  the  driver,  I  stepped  close  to  the 

[2761 


IN  CHARGE  OF  THE  DAIEY 

vehicle,  and  extended  my  hand  to  grandma,  saying, 
^^  Good-bye,  don't  worry  abont  the  dairy  while  thou 
art  gone,  for  everything  will  be  attended  to  until  thy 
return ;  but  remember  —  then  I  go. ' ' 

On  the  way  back  to  the  house  grandpa  asked  why  I 
did  not  treat  the  widow  more  friendly,  and  I  answered, 
'^  Because  I  don't  believe  in  her."  To  my  surprise, 
he  replied,  ^ '  I  don 't  either,  but  grandma  is  like  a  little 
child  in  her  hands." 

I  felt  that  I  ought  to  tell  him  I  should  soon  go  away, 
but  I  had  never  gone  to  him  with  home  troubles,  and 
knew  that  it  would  not  be  right  to  speak  of  them  in 
grandma's  absence;  so  he  quietly  went  to  his  duties 
and  I  to  mine.  Yet  I  could  not  help  wondering  how 
grandma  could  leave  me  in  full  charge  of  her  posses- 
sions if  she  believed  the  stories  that  had  been  told  her. 
I  felt  so  sure  that  the  guilty  one  would  be  found  out 
that  it  made  me'  light-hearted. 

Mrs.  Blake  came  and  spent  the  night  with  me,  and 
the  following  morning  helped  to  get  the  breakfast  and 
talked  over  the  cleaning  that  I  wished  to  do  before 
grandma's  return  on  the  coming  Saturday  morning. 
But 

God  moves  in  a  mysterious  way 
His  wonders  to  perform, 

and  unseen  hands  were  shaping  a  different  course  for 

me!    I  had  the  milk  skimmed,  and  a  long  row  of  clean 

pans  in  the  sunshine  before  time  to  hurry  the  dinner 

for  grandpa  and  the  three  men.    I  was  tired,  for  I  had 

carried  most  of  the  milk  to  the  pig  troughs  after  hav- 

[  277  ] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

ing  finished  work  which  grandma  and  T  had  always 
done  together ;  so  I  sat  down  under  the  tree  to  rest  and 
meditate. 

My  thoughts  followed  the  travellers  with  many 
questions,  and  the  wish  that  I  might  hear  what  Mrs. 
Stein  had  to  say.  I  might  have  overstayed  my  time, 
if  the  flock  of  goats  had  not  come  up  and  smelled  my 
hands,  nibbled  at  the  hem  of  my  apron,  and  tried  to 
chew  the  cape  of  my  sun-bonnet.  I  sprang  up  and 
with  a  shout  and  clap  of  my  hands,  scattered  them,  and 
entered  the  log  kitchen,  reclosing  the  lower  section  of 
the  divided  door,  to  keep  them  from  following  me 
within. 

I  prepared  the  dinner,  and  if  it  lacked  the  flavor  of 
grandma's  cooking,  those  who  ate  it  did  not  tell  me. 
Grandpa  lingered  a  moment  to  bestow  a  meed  of  praise 
on  my  work,  then  went  otf  to  the  back  corral  to  slaugh- 
ter a  beef  for  the  shop.  I  began  clearing  the  table, 
and  was  turning  from  it  with  a  vegetable  dish  in  each 
hand  when  I  caught  sight  of  the  shadow  of  a  tall  silk 
hat  in  the  open  space  above  the  closed  half  door.  Then 
the  hat  and  its  wearer  appeared. 

Leaning  over  the  edge  of  the  door,  he  gazed  at  me 
standing  there  as  if  I  were  nailed  to  the  floor.  I  was 
speechless  with  amazement,  and  it  seemed  a  long  while 
before  he  remarked  lightly,  '*  You  don't  seem  to  know 
me." 

**  Yes,  you  are  Mr.  Wilder,  my  brother-in-law,"  I 
stammered.     **  AYliere  is  Elitha?  " 

He  informed  me  that  she  and  their  little  daughter 

[278] 


MEETING  WITH  ELITHA 

were  at  the  hotel  in  town,  where  they  had  arrived  about 
noon,  and  that  she  wanted  Georgia  and  me  to  be 
prompt  in  coming  to  her  at  four  o'clock.  I  told  him 
that  we  could  not  do  so,  because  Georgia  was  at  Mrs. 
Bergwald's,  grandma  on  a  journey  beyond  Bodego, 
and  I  at  home  in  charge  of  the  work. 

In  surprise  he  listened,  then  asked,  '^  But  aren't 
you  at  all  anxious  to  see  your  sister  and  little  niece?  '' 

Most  earnestly,  I  replied  that  I  was.  Nevertheless, 
as  grandma  was  away,  I  could  not  leave  the  place  until 
after  the  day's  work  was  done.  Then  I  enumerated 
what  was  before  me.  He  agreed  that  there  was  quite 
enough  to  keep  me  busy,  yet  insisted  that  I  ought  to 
keep  the  appointment  for  four  o'clock.  After  his  de- 
parture, I  rushed  out  to  grandpa,  told  him  who  had 
come  and  gone,  and  what  had  passed  between  us.  He 
too,  regretted  the  situation,  but  promised  that  I  should 
spend  the  evening  at  the  hotel. 

I  fairly  flew  about  my  work  that  afternoon,  and  my 
brain  was  as  active  as  my  hands  and  feet.  I  was  cer- 
tain that  brother  and  sister  had  come  for  us,  and  the 
absorbing  query  was,  ^  *  How  did  they  happen  to  arrive 
at  this  particular  time?  "  I  also  feared  there  was 
more  trouble  before  me,  and  remembered  my  promise 
to  grandma  with  twinges  of  regret. 

At  half-past  four,  I  was  feeding  the  hens  in  the  yard, 
and,  looking  up,  saw  a  strange  carriage  approaching. 
Instantly,  I  guessed  who  was  in  it,  and  was  at  the 
gate  before  it  stopped.  Elitha  greeted  me  kindly,  but 
not  cordially.    She  asked  why  I  had  not  come  as  re- 

[279] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

quested,  and  then  said,  ^'  Go,  bring  the  silver  thimble 
Frances  left  here,  and  the  coral  necklace  I  gave  you. ' ' 

In  my  nervous  haste  I  could  not  find  the  thimble, 
but  carried  out  the  necklace.  She  next  bade  me  take 
the  seat  beside  her,  thus  disclosing  her  intention  of- 
carrying  me  on,  picking  up  Georgia  and  proceeding  to 
Sacramento.  She  was  annoyed  by  my  answer  and  dis- 
appointed in  what  she  termed  my  lack  of  pride.  Call- 
ing my  attention  to  my  peculiar  style  of  dress  and 
surroundings,  to  my  stooped  shoulders  and  callous 
hands,  she  bade  me  think  twice  before  I  refused  the 
comfortable  home  she  had  to  offer. 

When  assured  that  I  would  gladly  go  on  Saturday, 
but  was  unwilling  to  leave  in  grandma's  absence,  she 
did  not  urge  further,  simply  inquired  the  way  to 
Georgia,  and  left  me. 

I  was  nursing  my  disappointment  and  watching  the 
disappearing  carriage,  when  Mr.  Knipp,  the  brewer, 
with  his  load  of  empty  kegs  drew  up,  and  asked  what 
I  was  thinking  about  so  hard.  It  was  a  relief  to  see 
his  jolly,  good-natured  face,  and  I  told  him  briefly  that 
our  people  were  in  town  and  wished  to  take  us  home 
with  them.  He  got  down  from  his  wagon  to  say 
confidentially: 

''  Thou  must  not  leave  grandpa  and  grandma,  be- 
cause tlie  old  man  is  always  kind  to  thee,  and  though 
she  may  sometimes  wag  a  sharp  tongue,  she  means 
well.  Be  patient,  by-and-by  thou  wilt  have  a  nice  prop- 
erty, the  country  will  have  more  people  for  hire,  and 
thou  wilt  not  have  so  hard  to  work." 

[280] 


FEIENDLY  ADVICE 

When  I  told  him  that  I  did  not  want  the  property, 
and  that  there  were  other  things  I  did  care  for,  he  con- 
tinued persuasively: 

'**  Women  need  not  so  much  learning  from  books. 
Grandma  would  not  know  how  to  scold  so  grandly  if 
she  remembered  not  so  many  fine  words  from  *  Wil- 
helm  Tell  '  and  the  other  books  that  she  knoweth  by 
heart. ' '  And  he  climbed,  back  and  drove  off,  believing 
that  he  had  done  me  a  good  turn. 

To  my  great  satisfaction,  Georgia  arrived  about 
dark,  saying  that  Benjamin  had  brought  her  and  would 
call  for  us  later  to  spend  the  evening  with  them.  When 
we  reached  the  hotel,  Elitha  received  us  affectionately, 
and  did  not  refer  to  the  disappointments  of  the  after- 
noon. The  time  was  given  up  to  talk  about  plans  for 
our  future,  and  that  night  when  we  two  crept  into  bed, 
I  felt  that  I  had  been  eased  of  a  heavy  burden,  for 
Benjamin  was  willing  to  await  grandma's  return. 

He  also  told  us  that  early  next  morning  he  would 
go  to  Santa  Eosa,  the  county  seat,  and  apply  to  be 
made  our  guardian  in  place  of  Hiram  Miller,  and 
would  also  satisfy  any  claim  grandma  might  have  to 
us,  or  against  us,  adding  that  we  need  not  take  any- 
thing away  with  us,  except  our  keepsakes. 


[281 


CHAPTER  XXXII 


GEORGIA  AND  I  ARE  OFF  FOR  SACRAMENTO. 

MEANWHILE,  grandma  and  her  friends  had 
reached  Bodego  and  spent  the  night  there.  She 
had  not  learned  anything  more  terrible  that  I  had  said 
about  her,  and  at  breakfast  told  Mrs.  Stein  that  she 
had  had  a  dream  foreboding  trouble,  and  would  not 
continue  the  journey  to  the  Stein  home.  The  widow 
coaxed  and  insisted  that  she  go  the  few  remaining 
miles  to  see  her  children.  Then  she  waxed  indignant 
and  let  slip  the  fact  that  she  considered  it  an  outrage 
that  American,  instead  of  European  born  children 
should  inherit  the  B runner  property,  and  that  she  had 
hoped  that  grandma  would  select  two  of  her  daughters 
to  fill  the  places  from  which  Georgia  and  I  should  be 
expelled. 

Grandma  took  a  different  view  of  the  matter,  and 
started  homeward  immediately  after  breakfast. 

That  very  afternoon,  on  the  Santa  Rosa  road,  whom 
should  she  pass  but  our  brother  Ben.  They  recognized 
each  other,  but  were  too  astonished  to  speak.  Grandma 
ordered  her  driver  to  whip  up,  saying  that  she  had 
just  seen  the  red-whiskered  imp  of  darkness  who  had 
troubled  her  sleep,  and  she  must  get  to  town  as  fast  as 
possible. 

[  282  ] 


FAREWELL  TO  THE  FARM 

She  stopped  first  at  the  butcher  shop.  Before 
grandpa  could  express  surprise  at  her  unexpected  re- 
turn, she  showered  him  with  questions  in  regard  to 
happenings  at  home,  and  being  informed,  took  him  to 
task  for  having  permitted  us  to  visit  our  people  at  the 
hotel.  He '  innocently  remarked  that  he  knew  of  no 
reason  why  we  should  not  see  our  relatives;  that 
Georgia  was  spending  the  day  with  them ;  and  that  we 
both  had  his  permission  to  go  again  in  the  evening. 
In  conclusion  he  said  that  I  had  been  a  faithful,  hard 
working  little  housekeeper,  and  she  would  find  every- 
thing in  order  at  home. 

Grandma  arrived  at  home  before  sunset,  too  excited 
to  be  interested  in  dairy  matters.  She  told  me  all 
about  her  trip,  even  to  the  name  she  had  called  my 
brother-in-law,  adding  that  she  knew  he  was  **  not 
red- whiskered,  but  he  was  next  door  to  it.''  Later, 
when  he  came,  she  did  not  receive  him  pleasantly,  nor 
would  she  let  us  go  to  Elitha.  Brusquely,  she  de- 
manded to  know  if  I  had  written  to  him  to  come  for 
us,  and  would  not  believe  him  when  he  assured  her 
that  neither  he  nor  our  sisters  had  received  letter  or 
message  from  us  in  months. 

After  his  departure,  I  could  see  that  she  was  no 
longer  angry,  and  I  dreaded  the  ensuing  day,  which 
was  destined  to  be  my  last  on  that  farm. 

It  came  with  a  rosy  dawn,  and  I  was  up  to  meet  it, 
and  to  say  good-bye  to  the  many  dumb  creatures  that 
I  had  cared  for.  The  tension  I  was  under  lent  me 
strength  to  work  faster  than  usual.    When  the  break- 

r  283  1 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

fast  call  sounded,  I  had  finished  in  the  corrals,  and  was 
busy  in  the  hen  houses,  having  taken  care  to  keep  out 
of  grandpa 's  sight ;  for  I  knew  how  he  would  miss  me, 
and  I  did  not  want  to  say  the  parting  words.  After 
he  and  the  men  were  gone,  grandma  came,  and  watched 
me  jfinish  my  task,  then  said  kindly, 

**  Come,  Eliza,  and  eat  thy  breakfast.'' 

I  looked  up  and  replied, 

^*  Grandma,  I  ate  my  last  meal  in  thy  house  last 
night.  Dost  thou  not  remember,  I  told  thee  that  I 
would  take  care  of  everything  until  thy  return,  and 
then  would  not  be  a  burden  to  thee  longer!  I  have 
kept  my  word,  and  am  going  away  this  morning.'' 

' '  Thou  are  mine,  and  canst  not  go ;  but  if  thou  wilt 
not  eat,  come  and  help  me  with  the  dishes,"  she  re- 
plied nervously. 

I  had  planned  to  slip  off  and  change  my  dress  before 
meeting  her,  but  now,  after  a  breath  of  hesitation,  I 
went  to  dry  the  dishes,  hoping  that  our  talk  would 
soon  be  over.  I  knew  it  would  be  hard  for  both  of  us, 
for  dear,  childish  grandma  was  ready  to  forgive  and 
forget  what  she  termed  our  little  troubles.  I,  how- 
ever, smarting  under  the  wrong  and  injustice  that 
had  been  done  me,  felt  she  had  nothing  to  forgive,  and 
that  matters  between  us  had  reached  the  breaking- 
point. 

She  was  still  insisting  on  her  right  to  keep  me,  when 
a  slight  sound  caused  us  both  to  turn,  and  meeting 
Georgia's  anxious,  listening  gaze,  grandma  appealed 
to  her,  saying, 

\  284-  ] 


PREPARING  FOR  DEPARTURE 

''  Thou  hast  heard  thy  sister's  talk,  but  thou  hast 
not  been  in  this  fuss,  and  surely  wilt  not  leave  me?  '' 

''  Yes,  I  am  going  with  Eliza,''  was  the  prompt  an- 
swer, which  had  no  sooner  left  her  lips,  than  grandma 
resorted  to  her  last  expedient :  she  ordered  us  both  to 
our  room,  and  forbade  us  to  leave  it  until  she  should 
hear  from  grandpa. 

What  message  she  sent  him  by  the  milker  we  never 
learned.  Georgia,  being  already  dressed  for  the  jour- 
ney, and  her  trunk  containing  most  of  her  possessions 
being  at  Mrs.  Bergwald  's,  had  nothing  to  do  but  await 
results. 

I  quickly  changed  my  working  suit  for  a  better  one, 
which  had  been  given  me  by  a  German  friend  from 
San  Francisco.  Then  I  laid  out  my  treasured  keep- 
sakes. In  my  nervous  energy,  nothing  was  forgotten. 
I  took  pains  that  my  clothes  against  the  wall  should 
hang  in  straight  rows,  that  the  folded  ones  should  lie 
in  neat  piles  in  my  pretty  Chinese  trunk,  and  that  the 
bunch  of  artificial  flowers  which  I  had  always  kept  for 
a  top  centre  mark,  should  be  exactly  in  the  middle; 
finally,  that  the  gray  gauze  veil  used  as  a  fancy  cover- 
ing of  the  whole  should  be  smoothly  tucked  in  around 
the  clothing.  This  done,  I  gave  a  parting  glance  at 
the  dainty  effect,  dropped  the  cover,  snapped  the  queer 
little  brass  padlock  in  place,  put  the  key  on  the  table, 
and  covered  the  trunk  so  that  its  embossed  figures  of 
birds  and  flowers  should  be  protected  from  harm. 

We  had  not  remembered  to  tell  Elitha  about  the  hun- 
dred dollars  which  Jakie  had  willed  us,  so  decided  to 

[2851 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

let  grandma  keep  it  to  cover  some  of  the  expense  we 
had  been  to  her,  also  not  to  ask  for  our  little  trinkets 
stored  in  her  closet. 

With  the  bundle  containing  my  keepsakes,  I  now  sat 
down  by  Georgia  and  listened  with  bated  breath  to  tlie 
sound  of  grandma's  approaching  footsteps.  She  en- 
tered and  hastily  began, 

**  Grandpa  says,  if  you  want  to  go,  and  your  people 
are  here  to  take  you,  we  have  no  right  to  keep  you ;  but 
thnt  I  am  not  to  part  with  you  bad  friends.  So  I  came 
to  shake  hands  and  say  good-bye.  But  I  don 't  forgive 
you  for  going  away,  and  I  never  want  to  see  you  or 
hear  from  you  again!  '* 

She  did  not  ask  to  see  what  we  were  taking  away, 
nor  did  her  good-bye  seem  like  parting. 

The  fear  that  something  might  yet  arise  to  prevent 
our  reaching  brother  and  sister  impelled  us  to  run  the 
greater  part  of  the  distance  to  the  hotel,  and  in  less 
than  an  hour  thereafter,  we  were  in  the  carriage  with 
them  on  the  way  to  Mrs.  BergwakPs,  prior  to  taking 
the  road  to  Sacramento. 

Off  at  last,  without  a  soul  in  the  town  knowing  it! 
'  Georgia,  who  had  neither  said  nor  done  anything  to 
anger  grandma,  was  easier  in  mind  and  more  comfort- 
able in  body,  than  I,  who,  fasting,  had  borne  the  trials 
of  the  morning.  I  could  conceal  the  cause,  but  not  the 
faint  and  ill  feeling  which  oppressed  me  during  the 
morning  drive  and  continued  until  I  had  had  something 
to  eat  at  the  wayside  inn,  and  a  rest,  while  the  horses 
were  enjoying  their  nooning. 

[286] 


THE  SACRAMENTO  RIVER 

I  had  also  been  too  miserable  to  feel  any  interest  in 
what  occurred  at  Mrs.  Bergwald's  after  we  stopped  to 
let  Georgia  get  her  keepsakes.  But  when  the  day's 
travel  was  over,  and  we  were  comfortably  housed  for 
the  night,  Georgia  and  I  left  our  brother  and  sister  to 
their  happy  hour  with  their  child,  and  sat  close  to- 
gether on  the  outer  doorsteps  to  review  the  events  of 
the  day.  Our  world  during  that  solemn  hour  was  cir- 
cumscribed, reaching  back  only  to  the  busy  scenes  of 
the  morning,  and  forward  to  the  little  home  that  should 
open  to  us  on  the  morrow. 

When  we  resumed  travel,  we  did  not  follow  the  pio- 
neers'  trail,  once  marked  by  hoof  of  deer,  elk,  and 
antelope,  nor  the  winding  way  of  the  Spanish  cahel- 
lero,  but  took  the  short  route  which  the  eager  trades- 
man and  miner  had  hewn  and  tramped  into  shape. 

On  reaching  the  ferry  across  the  Sacramento  River, 
I  gazed  at  the  surrounding  country  in  silent  amaze- 
ment. Seven  and  a  half  years  with  their  marvellous 
influx  of  brawn  and  brain,  and  their  output  of  gold, 
had  indeed  changed  every  familiar  scene,  except  the 
snow-capped  Sierras,  wrapped  in  their  misty  cloak  of 
autumnal  blue.  The  broad,  deep  river  had  given  up 
both  its  crystal  floods  and  the  wild,  free  song  which 
had  accompanied  it  to  the  sea,  and  become  a  turbid 
waterway,  encumbered  with  busy  craft  bringing  daily 
supplies  to  countless  homes,  and  carrying  afar  the  long 
hidden  wealth  of  ages. 

The  tule  fiat  between  the  water  front  and  Sutter's 
Fort  had  become  a  bustling  city.     The  streets  running 

[  287  ] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

north  and  south  were  numbered  from  first  to  twenty- 
eighth,  and  those  east  and  west  lettered  from  A  to  Z, 
and  thriving,  light-hearted  throngs  were  pursuing 
their  various  occupations  upon  ground  which  had  once 
seemed  like  a  Noah's  ark  to  me.  Yes,  this  was  the 
very  spot  where  with  wondering  eyes  I  had  watched 
nature's  untamed  herds  winding  througli  the  reedy 
paths  to  the  river  bank,  to  quench  their  morning  and 
evening  thirst. 

As  we  crossed  from  J  Street  to  K,  brother  remarked, 
*^  Our  journey  will  end  on  this  street;  which  of  you 
girls  will  pick  out  the  house  before  we  come  to  it!  " 

Elitha  would  not  help  us,  but  smiled,  when,  after 
several  guesses,  I  said  that  I  wished  it  to  be  a  white 
house  with  brownish  steps  and  a  dark  door  with  a 
white  knob.  Hence,  great  was  my  satisfaction  when 
near  the  southeast  corner  of  Eighteenth  and  K  streets, 
we  halted  in  front  of  a  cottage  of  that  description ;  and 
it  was  regarded  as  a  lucky  omen  for  me,  that  my  first 
wish  amid  new  scenes  should  be  realized. 

The  meeting  with  Sister  Frances  and  the  novelty  of 
the  new  situation  kept  up  a  pleasurable  excitement  un- 
til bed-time.  Then  in  the  stillness  of  the  night,  in  the 
darkness  of  the  new  chamber,  came  the  recollection 
that  at  about  that  hour  one  week  ago,  I,  sorrowing  and 
alone,  had  stood  by  a  weird  old  tree-trunk  in  Sonoma, 
and  vowed  by  the  rising  moon  that  before  it  should 
come  up  again  in  its  full,  Georgia  and  I  would  be  in 
Sacramento.  I  did  not  sleep  until  I  had  thanked  the 
good  Father  for  sending  help  to  me  in  my  time  of  need. 

[2881 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

THE     PUBLIC     SCHOOLS    OF    SACRAMENTO A    GLIMPSE    OF 

GRANDPA  — THE       RANCHO       DE       LOS       CAZADORES MI- 
SWEETEST   PRIVILEGE LETTERS   FROM   THE   BRUNNERS. 

IT  is  needless  to  say  that  we  were  grateful  for  our 
new  home,  and  tried  to  express  our  appreciation 
in  words  and  by  sharing  the  household  duties,  and  by 
helping  to  make  the  neat  clothing  provided  for  us. 

The  first  Monday  in  October  was  a  veritable  red- 
letter  day.  Aglow  with  bright  anticipations,  we  hur- 
ried off  to  public  school  with  Frances.  Not  since  our 
short  attendance  at  the  pioneer  school  in  Sonoma  had 
Georgia  and  I  been  schoolmates,  and  never  before  had 
we  three  sisters  started  out  together  with  books  in 
hand;  nor  did  our  expectations  overreach  the  sum  of 
happiness  which  the  day  had  in  store  for  us. 

The  supposition  that  grandpa  and  grandma  had 
passed  out  of  our  lives  was  soon  disproved;  for  as  I 
was  crossing  our  back  yard  on  the  Saturday  of  that  first 
week  of  school,  I  happened  to  look  toward  Seventeenth 
Street,  and  saw  a  string  of  wagons  bringing  exhibits 
from  the  fair  grounds.  Beside  the  driver  of  a  truck 
carrying  a  closed  cage  marked,  **  Buffalo,''  stood 
grandpa.  He  had  risen  from  his  seat,  leaned  back 
against  the  front  of  the  cage,  folded  his  arms  and  was 

[  289  ]  . 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

looking  at  me.  My  long  black  braids,  had  been  cut  off, 
and  my  style  of  dress  changed,  still  lie  had  recognized 
me.  I  fled  into  the  house,  and  told  Elitha  what  I  had 
seen.  She,  too,  was  somewhat  disquieted,  and  replied 
musingly, 

^'The  old  gentleman  is  lonely,  and  may  have  come 
to  take  you  girls  back  with  him.'' 

His  presence  in  Sacramento  so  soon  after  our  reach- 
ing there  did  seem  significant,  because  he  had  bought 
tliat  buffalo  in  1851,  before  she  was  weaned  from  the 
emigrant  cow  that  had  suckled  and  led  her  in  from  the 
great  buffalo  range,  and  he. had  never  before  thought 
of  exhibiting  her. 

The  following  afternoon,  as  we  were  returning  from 
Sunday  school,  a  hand  suddenly  reached  out  of  the 
crowd  on  J  Street  and  touched  Georgia's  shoulder, 
then  stopped  me.  A  startled  backward  glance  rested 
on  Castle,  our  old  enemy,  who  said, 

**  Come.  Grandpa  is  in  town,  and  wants  to  see 
you."  We  shook  our  heads.  Then  he  looked  at  Fran- 
ces, saying,  **  All  of  you,  come  and  see  the  large  seal 
and  other  things  at  the  fair." 

But  she  replied,  emphatically,  '*  We  have  not  per- 
mission," and  grasping  a  hand  of  each,  hurried  us 
homeward.  For  days  thereafter,  we  were  on  the  alert 
guarding  against  what  we  feared  might  happen. 

Our  alarm  over,  life  moved  along  smoothly.  Elitha 
admonished  us  to  forget  the  past,  and  prepare  for  the 
future.  She  forbade  Georgia  and  me  to  use  the  Ger- 
man language  in  speaking  with  each  other,  giving  as 

[  290  1 


PINES  OF  THE  SIERRAS 


H 

m 
< 

O 

o 


RANCHO  DE  LOS  CAZADORES 

a  reason  that  we  should  take  Frances  into  our  confi- 
dence and  thoughts  as  closely  as  we  took  one  another. 

I  was  never  a  morbid  child,  and  the  days  that  I  did 
not  find  a  sunbeam  in  life,  I  was  apt  to  hunt  for  a 
rainbow.  But  there,  in  sight  of  the  Sierras,  the  feel- 
ing again  haunted  me  that  perhaps  my  mother  did  not 
die,  but  had  strayed  from  the  trail  and  later  reached 
the  settlement  and  could  not  find  us.  Each  middle- 
aged  woman  that  I  saw  ahead  of  me  on  the  street 
would  thrill  me  with  expectation,  and  I  would  quicken 
my  steps  in  order  to  get  a  view  of  her  face.  When  I 
gave  up  this  illusion,  I  still  prayed  that  Keseberg 
would  send  for  me  some  day,  and  let  me  know  her  end, 
and  give  me  a  last  message.  I  wanted  his  call  to  me 
to  be  voluntary,  so  that  I  might  know  that  his  words 
were  true.  These  hopes  and  prayers  were  sacred, 
even  from  Georgia. 

On  the  twenty-fourth  of  March,  1856,  brother  Ben 
tqok  us  all  to  pioneer  quarters  on  Rancho  de  los  Caz- 
adores,  where  their  growing  interests  required  tlie 
personal  attention  of  the  three  brotliers.  There  we 
became  familiar  with  the  pleasures,  and  also  the  in- 
conveniences and  hardships  of  life  on  a  cattle  ranch. 
We  were  twenty  miles  from  town,  church,  and  school ; 
ten  miles  from  the  post  office;  and  close  scrutiny  far 
and  wide  disclosed  but  one  house  in  range.  Our  sup- 
ply of  books  was  meagre,  and  for  knowledge  of  current 
events,  we  relied  on  The  Sacramento  Union y  and  on  tlie 
friends  who  came  to  enjoy  the  cattleman's  hospitality. 

My  sweetest  privilege  was  an  occasional  visit  to 

r  291 1 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

cousin  Frances  Bond,  my  mother  ^s  niece,  who,  with 
her  husband  and  child,  had  settled  on  a  farm  about 
twelve  miles  from  us.  She  also  had  grown  up  a  moth- 
erless girl,  but  had  spent  a  part  of  her  young  lady- 
hood at  our  home  in  Illinois.  She  had  helped  my 
mother  to  prepare  for  our  long  journey  and  would 
have  crossed  the  plains  with  us  had  her  father  granted 
her  wish.  She  was  particularly  fond  of  us  ^'  three 
little  ones  ' '  whom  she  had  caressed  in  babyhood.  She 
related  many  pleasing  incidents  connected  with  those 
days,  and  spoke  feelingly,  yet  guardedly,  of  our  ex- 
periences in  the  mountains.  Like  Elitha,  she  hoped 
we  would  forget  them,  and  as  she  watched  me  cheer- 
fully adapting  myself  to  new  surroundings,  she  imag- 
ined that  time  and  circumstances  were  dimming  the 
past  from  my  memory. 

She  did  not  understand  me.  I  was  light-hearted 
because  I  was  old  enough  to  appreciate  the  blessings 
that  had  come  to  me ;  old  enough  to  look  ahead  and  see 
the  pure,  intelligent  womanhood  opening  to  me;  and 
trustful  enough  to  believe  that  my  expectations  in  life 
would  be  realized.  So  I  gathered  counsel  and  com- 
fort from  the  lips  of  that  sympathetic  cousin,  and  loved 
her  word  pictures  of  the  home  where  I  was  born. 

Nor  could  change  of  circumstances  wean  my  grate- 
ful thoughts  from  Grandpa  and  Grandma  Brunner. 
At  times,  I  seemed  to  listen  for  the  sound  of  his  voice, 
and  to  hear  hers  so  near  and  clear  that  in  the  night, 
I  often  started  up  out  of  sleep  in  answer  to  her  dream 
calls.     Finally  I  determined  to  disregard  her  parting 

r  292 1 


A  LETTER  FROM  GRANDMA 

words,  and  write  her.  Georgia  was  sure  that  I  would 
get  a  severe  answer,  but  Elitha's  ready  permission 
made  the  letter  easier  to  write.  "Weeks  elapsed  with- 
out a  reply,  and  I  had  about  given  up  looking  for  it, 
when  late  in  August,  William,  the  youngest  Wilder 
brother,  saddled  his  horse,  and  upon  mounting,  called 
out, 

**  I  'm  off  to  Sacramento,  Eliza,  to  bring  you  that 
long-expected  letter.  It  was  misdirected,  and  is  ad- 
vertised in  The  Sacramento  Union's  list  of  uncalled- 
for  mail.'' 

He  left  me  in  a  speculative  mood,  wondering  if  it 
was  from  grandma;  which  of  her  many  friends  had 
-written  it  for  her;  and  if  it  was  severe,  as  predicted 
by  Georgia.  Great  was  my  delight  when  the  letter 
was  handed  me,  and  I  opened  it  and  read : 

Sonoma,  July  3,  18:j6 
To  Miss  Eliza  P.  Donner: 

Casador  Rancho,  Consumne  River 
NEAR  Sacramento  City. 
Dear  Eliza: 

Your  letter  of  the  fifteenth  of  June  came  duly  to  hand, 
giving  me  great  satisfaction  in  regard  to  your  health,  as  well 
as  keeping  me  and  grandfather  in  good  memory. 

I  have  perused  the  contents  of  your  letter  with  great  inter- 
est. I  am  glad  to  learn  that  you  enjoy  a  country  life.  We 
have  sold  lately  twelve  cows,  and  are  milking  fifteen  at  pres- 
ent. You  want  to  know  how  Flower  is  coming  on :  had  you 
not  better  come  and  see  for  yourself?  Hard  feelings  or  ill 
will  we  have  none  against  you;  and  why  should  I  not  for- 
give little  troubles  that  are  past  and  gone  by? 

I  know  that  you  saw  grandfather  in  Sacramento;  he  saw 
you  and  knew^  you  w^ell  too.    Why  did  you  not  go  and  speak 

to  him? 

The  roses  you  planted  on  Jacob's  grave  are  growing  beau- 

[  293  ] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PAETY 

tifully,  and  our  garden  looks  well.     Grandfather  and  myself 
enjoy  good  health,  and  we  wish  you  the  same  for  all  time  to 
come.     We  give  you  our  love,  and  remain, 
In  parental  affection, 

Mary  and  Christian  Brunner. 
(Give  our  love  also  to  Georgia.) 

Georgia  was  as  much  gratified  by  the  contents  of 
the  letter  as  I,  and  we  each  sent  an  immediate  answer, 
addressed  to  grandpa  and  grandma,  expressing  our 
appreciation  of  their  forgiving  words,  regret  for 
trouble  and  annoyances  we  had  caused  them,  thanks 
for  their  past  kindness,  and  the  hope  that  they  would 
write  to  us  again  when  convenient.  We  referred  to 
our  contentment  in  our  new  home,  and  avoided  any 
words  which  they  might  construe  as  a  wish  to  return. 

There  was  no  long  waiting  for  the  second  letter, 
nor  mistake  in  address.  It  was  dated  just  three  days 
prior  to  the  first  anniversary  of  our  leaving  Sonoma, 
and  here  speaks  for  itself : 

Sonoma,  Sept.  11,  1856 
Georgli  and  Eliza  Donner. 

My  dear  Children: 

Your  two  letters  dated  August  thirty-first  reached  us  in  due 
season. 

AVe  were  glad  to  hear  from  you,  and  it  is  our  wish  that 
3^ou  do  well.  Whenever  you  are  disposed  to  come  to  us  again 
our  doors  shall  be  open  to  you,  and  we  will  rejoice  to  see  you. 

"We  are  glad  to  see  that  you  acknowledge  your  errors,  for 
it  shows  good  hearts,  and  the  right  kind  of  principles;  for 
you  should  always  remember  that  in  showing  respect  to  old 
age  you  are  doing  yourself  honor,  and  those  who  know  you 
will  respect  you.    All  your  cows  are  doing  well. 

I  am  inclined  to  think  that  the  last  letter  we  wrote  you, 
you  did  not  get.  We  mention  this  to  sliow  you  that  we  always 
write  to  you. 

Your  mother   desires  to  know  if  you  have  forgotten  the 

[294] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

time  when  she  used  to  have  you  sleep  with  her,  each  in  one 
arm,  showing  the  great  love  and  care  she  had  for  you;  she 
remembers,  and  can't  forget. 

Your  grandfather  informs  you  that  he  still  keeps  the 
butcher  shop,  and  bar-room,  and  that  scarcely  a  day  passes 
without  his  thinking  of  you.  He  still  feels  very  bad  that 
you  did  not,  before  going  away,  come  to  him  and  say  ' '  Good- 
bye, grandfather."  He  forgives  you,  however,  and  hopes  you 
will  come  and  see  him.  When  you  get  this  letter  you  must 
^vrite.  Yours  affectionately. 

Christian  Brunner, 
Mary  Brunner. 

Letters  following  the  foregoing  assured  us  that 
grandma  had  become  fully  satisfied  that  the  stories 
told  her  by  Mrs.  Stein  were  untrue.  She  freely  ac- 
knowledged that  she  was  miserable  and  forlorn  with- 
out us,  and  begged  us  to  return  to  the  love  and  trust 
which  awaited  us  at  our  old  home.  This,  however, 
we  could  not  do. 

Before  the  close  of  the  Winter,  Frances  and  Georgia 
began  preparations  for  boarding  school  in  Sacramento, 
and  I  being  promised  like  opportunities  for  myself 
later,  wrote  all  about  them  to  grandma,  trusting  that 
this  course  would  convince  her  that  we  were  perma- 
nently separated  from  her,  and  that  Elitha  and  her 
husband  had  definite  plans  for  our  future.  I  received 
no  response  to  this,  but  Georgia's  first  communication 
from  school  contained  the  following  paragraph : 

I  saw  Sallie  Keiberg  last  week,  who  told  me  that  Iier 
mother  had  a  letter  from  the  old  lady  (Grandma  Brunner) 
five  weeks  ago.  A  man  brought  it.  And  that  the  old  lady 
had  sent  us  by  him  some  jewellery,  gold  breast-pins,  earrings, 
and  wristlets.  He  stopped  at  the  William  Tell  Hotel.  And 
that  is  all  they  know  about  him  and  the  presents. 

[2951 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 

TRAGEDY   IN    SONOMA CHRISTIAN    BRUNNER   IN   A   PRISON 

CELL  —  ST.    Catherine's    convent    at   benicia  —  ro- 
mance OF  SPANISH  CALIFORNIA THE  BEAUTIFUL  ANGEL 

IN    BLACK THE    PRAYER    OF    DONA    CONCEPCION    ARGU- 

ELLO  REALIZED MONASTIC  RITES. 

TIME  passed.  Not  a  word  had  eome  to  me  from 
Sonoma  in  months,  when  Benjamin  handed  me 
the  Union,  and  with  horror  I  read  the  headlines  to 
which  he  pointed:  **  Tragedy  in  Sonoma.  Christian 
Brunner,  an  Old  Resident,  Slays  His  Own  Nephew  !  '* 

From  the  lurid  details  published,  I  learned  that  the 
Brunners  had  asked  this  nephew  to  come  to  them, 
and  had  sent  him  money  to  defray  his  expenses  from 
Switzerland  to  California.  Upon  his  arrival  in  So- 
noma, he  had  settled  himself  in  the  proffered  home, 
and  at  once  begun  a  life  of  extravagance,  at  the  ex- 
pense of  his  relatives.  He  was  repeatedly  warned 
against  trifling  with  their  affection,  and  wasting  their 
hard-earned  riches.  Then  patience  ceased,  and  he  was 
forbidden  the  house  of  his  uncle. 

Meanwhile,  his  aunt  became  seriously  ill,  and  the 
young  man  visited  her  secretly,  and  prevailed  upon 
her  to  give  him,  in  the  event  of  her  death,  certain 
cattle  and  other  property  which  stood  in  her  name. 

[2961 


THE  TRAGEDY 

She,  however,  recovered  health ;  and  he  in  the  presence 
of  his  nncle,  insisted  that  she  had  given  him  the  prop- 
erty outright,  and  he  wanted  possession.  This  made 
trouble  between  the  old  couple,  and  the  wife  took  ref- 
uge with  friends  in  San  Francisco.  The  night  after  her 
departure,  the  husband  entered  his  own  room  and  found 
the  nex)hew  in  his  bed.  Thoroughly  enraged,  he  or- 
dered him  up  and  out  of  his  sight,  and  was  insolently 
told  by  the  young  man  that  he  was  owner  of  that  prop- 
erty and  in  rightful  possession  of  the  same.  At  this, 
liis  uncle  snatched  his  pistol  from  the  table  at  the 
bedside,  and  fired  the  fatal  shot. 

This  almost  incredible  news  was  so  harrowing  that 
I  could  scarcely  think  of  anything,  except  grandpa 
chained  in  a  prison  cell,  grandma  in  hiding  away  from 
home,  and  excited  groups  of  people  gathering  about 
the  thoroughfares  of  Sonoma  discussing  the  tragedy. 

I  was  not  sorry  that  at  this  time  an  epidemic  of 
measles  broke  out  in  Sacramento,  and  Georgia  became 
one  of  its  early  victims.  This  brought  both  girls  back 
to  the  ranch,  and  during  Georgia's  convalescence,  we 
had  many  serious  talks  about  the  Brunners'  troubles. 
We  wrote  to  grandma,  but  received  no  answer,  and 
could  only  wait  to  learn  what  would  be  done  with 
grandpa.  He  was  arraigned  and  held;  but  the  date 
set  for  trial  was  not  fixed  before  Benjamin  took 
Frances  and  Georgia  to  Benicia,  to  enter  the  Septem- 
ber term  of  St.  Catherine's  Convent  School. 

Upon  Ben's  return,  I  observed  that  he  and  Elitlia 
were  keeping  from  me  some  mysterious  but  pleasur- 

[297] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

able  secret.  It  came  out  a  few  days  later  when  Elitlia 
began  making  a  black  and  a  white  uniform  which 
would  fit  no  one  except  me.  When  ready  to  try  them 
on,  she  informed  me  that  we  would  have  to  sew  early 
and  late,  that  I  might  be  ready  to  enter  the  convent 
by  the  first  of  October,  and  thereby  reap  the  benefit 
of  the  institution 's  established  custom  —  ^  ^  That  when 
more  than  two  of  a  family  become  pupils  the  same 
term,  the  third  one  shall  be  received  free  of.  charge 
(except  incidentals)  with  the  understanding  that  the 
family  thus  favored  shall  exert  its  influence  toward 
bringing  an  additional  pupil  into  the  school.'' 

Friends  who  had  religious  prejudices  advised  Ben 
against  putting  us  under  Catholic  influence,  but  he  re- 
plied good-naturedly:  **  The  school  is  excellent,  the 
girls  are  Protestants,  and  I  am  not  afraid.  Besides,  I 
have  told  them  all  the  horrible  and  uncanny  stories  that 
I  have  heard  about  convents,  and  they  will  not  care  to 
meddle  with  anything  outside  of  the  prescribed  course 
of  study.'' 

He  was  twenty  years  older  than  I,  and  had  such  con- 
servative and  dignified  ways,  that  I  often  stood  in 
awe  of  him.  So  when  he  let  the  convent  gate  close 
behind  us  with  a  loud  click  and  said,  **  Now,  you  are  a 
goner,"  I  scanned  his  face  apprehensively,  but  seeing 
nothing  very  alarming,  silently  followed  him  through 
the  massive  door  which  was  in  charge  of  a  white- 
robed  nun  of  the  Dominican  order. 

Presently  Mother  Mary  Superior  and  my  two  sis- 
ters came  to  us  in  the  reception  room  and  my  brother 

f  298  ] 


^^H^^^B 

^B 

%' 

^ 

1 

m 

o 
O 

1 

> 

1 

ST.  CATHERINE'S  CONVENT  SCHOOL 

deposited  the  fund  for  my  school  incidentals,  and 
after  a  brief  conversation,  departed.  The  prepara- 
tions in  connection  with  my  coming  had  been  so  rap- 
idly carried  out  that  I  had  had  little  time  in  which 
to  question  or  anticipate  what  my  reception  at  the 
convent  might  be.  Now,  however.  Mother  Mary,  with 
open  watch  in  hand,  stood  before  me,  saying, 

^*  Your  sister  Georgia  cried  twice  as  long  as  ex- 
pected when  she  came;  still  I  will  allow  you  the  reg- 
ular five  minutes." 

'^  I  don't  wisJi  to  cry,"  was  my  timid  response. 

**  But,"  she  insisted,  ^^  you  must  shed  a  few  en- 
trance tears  to  —  "  Before  she  finished  her  sentence, 
and  without  thinking  that  it  would  be  overreaching  a 
stranger's  privilege,  I  impulsively  threw  my  arms 
around  her  neck,  laid  my  cheek  against  hers,  and  whis- 
pered, '*  Please  don't  make  me  cry." 

She  drew  me  closer  to  her,  and  her  lips  touched  my 
forehead,  and  she  said,  *^  No,  child,  you  need  not." 
Then  she  bade  me  go  with  my  sisters  and  become  ac- 
quainted with  my  new  surroundings. 

I  was  at  once  made  to  feel  that  I  was  welcome  to 
every  advantage  and  privilege  accorded  to  Frances 
and  Georgia.  The  following  Monday,  soon  after 
breakfast,  I  slipped  unobserved  from  the  recreation 
room  and  made  my  way  to  the  children's  dormitory, 
where  Sister  Mary  Joseph  was  busily  engaged.  I  told 
her  that  I  had  come  to  help  make  beds  and  that  I  hoped 
she  would  also  let  me  wash  or  wipe  the  silverware 
used  at  the  noon  and  evening  meals.     She  would  not 

[  299  ] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

accept  my  services  until  slie  became  thoroughly  satis- 
fied that  I  had  not  offered  them  because  I  felt  that  I 
was  expected  to  do  so,  but  because  I  earnestly  desired 
to  do  whatever  I  could  in  return  for  the  educational 
and  cultural  advantages  so  freely  tendered  me  by  the 
convent. 

By  the  end  of  the  week  I  knew  the  way  to  parts  of  the 
buildings  not  usually  open  to  pupils.  Up  in  the  clothes 
room,  I  found  Sister  Mary  Frances,  and  on  assuring 
her  that  I  only  wanted  occupation  for  part  of  my  leis- 
ure time,  she  let  me  help  her  to  sort  and  distribute 
the  clothing  of  the  small  girls,  on  Saturdays.  Sister 
Rose  let  me  come  to  her  in  the  kitchen  an  hour  on 
Sundays,  and  other  light  tasks  were  assigned  me  at 
my  request. 

Then  did  I  eat  the  bread  of  independence,  take  a 
wholesome  interest  in  my  studies,  and  enjoy  the  friends 
I  gained! 

My  seat  in  the  refectory  was  between  my  sister 
Georgia  and  Miss  Cayitana  Payne,  a  wealthy  Spanish 
girl.  Near  neighbors  were  the  two  Estudillo  sisters, 
who  were  prouder  of  their  Castilian  lineage  than  of 
the  princely  estate  which  they  had  inherited  through 
it.  To  them  I  was  in  a  measure  indebted  for  pleasing 
conversation  at  table.  My  abundant  glossy  black  hair 
and  brunette  type  had  first  attracted  their  attention, 
and  suggested  the  probability  of  Spanish  blood  in  my 
veins.  After  they  had  learned  otherwise,  those  points 
of  resemblance  still  awoke  in  them  an  unobtrusive  in- 
terest in  my  welfare.     I  became  aware  of  its  depth 

f  300  ] 


SCHOOL  FRIENDS 

one  evening  in  the  recreation  room  while  Georgia  was 
home  for  a  month  on  sick  leave. 

I  was  near  Miss  Dolores  Estudillo,  and  overheard 
her  say  quietly  to  her  sister,  in  Spanish,  ''  Magdalena, 
see  how  care-free  the  young  girl  at  my  side  seems  to- 
night. The  far-away  look  so  often  in  her  eyes  leads 
me  to  think  that  our  dear  Lord  has  given  her  many 
crosses  to  bear.  Her  hands  show  marks  of  hard  work 
and  her  clothing  is  inexpensive,  yet  she  appears  of 
good  birth  and  when  I  can  throw  pleasure  in  her  way, 
I  mean  to  do  it.'^ 

Whereupon  Miss  Magdalena  turned  to  me  and  asked, 
*^  Do  you  live  in  Sacramento,  Miss  Donner!  *^ 

*  ^  No,  I  live  on  a  ranch  twenty  miles  from  the  city. '  ^ 

**  Do  your  parents  like  it  there?  '* 

**  I  have  no  parents,  they  died  when  I  was  four 
years  old.'^ 

She  did  not  ask  another  question,  nor  did  she  know 
that  I  had  caught  the  note  of  sympathy  in  her  apology 
as  she  turned  away.  From  that  time  on,  she  and  her 
coterie  of  young  friends  showed  me  many  delicate 
attentions. 

While  still  a  new  pupil,  I  not  infrequently  met  Sis- 
ter Dominica  resting  at  the  foot  of  the  steps  after  her 
walk  in  the  sunshine,  and  with  a  gracious,  **  Thank 
you,"  she  would  permit  me  to  assist  her  up  the  flight 
of  stairs  leading  to  her  apartment.  Bowed  by  age, 
and  wasted  by  disease,  she  was  patiently  awaiting  the 
final  summons.  I  became  deeply  interested  in  her 
before  I  learned  that  this  wan  bit  of  humanity  was  the 

[^01] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

once  winsome  daughter  of  Commanclante  Arguello,  and 
the  heroine  of  a  pathetic  romance  of  Spanish  Cali- 
fornia's day.* 

The  hero  was  Rezanoff,  an  officer  of  high  repute, 
sent  by  Russia  in  1806  to  inspect  its  establishment  at 
the  port  of  Sitka,  Alaska.  Finding  the  colony  there 
in  almost  destitute  condition,  he  had  embarked  on  the 
first  voyage  of  a  Russian  vessel  to  the  port  of  San 
Francisco,  California.  There  being  no  commercial 
treaty  between  the  two  ports,  Rezanoff  made  personal 
appeal  for  help  to  Governor  Arrillago,  and  later  to 
Commandante  Arguello.  After  many  difficulties  and 
delays,  he  succeeded  in  obtaining  the  sorely  needed 
supplies. 

Meanwhile,  the  young  officer  frequently  met  in  her 
father's  house  the  vivacious  Doiia  Concepcion  Argu- 
ello, and  Cupid  soon  joined  their  hearts  with  an  im- 
mortal chain. 

After  their  betrothal,  Rezanoif  hastened  back  to  the 
destitute  colony  with  supplies.  Then  he  sped  on  to- 
ward St.  Petersburg,  buoyant  with  a  lover's  hope  of 
obtaining  his  sovereign's  sanction  to  his  marriage,  and 
perhaps  an  appointment  to  Spain,  which  would  enable 
him  to  give  his  bride  a  distinguished  position  in  the 
country  of  her  proud  ancestors.  Alas,  death  overtook 
the  lover  en  route  across  the  snows  of  Siberia. 

When  Dona  Concepcion  learned  of  her  bereavement, 
her  lamentations  were  tearless,  her  sorrow  inconsol- 
able.    She  turned  from  social  duties  and  honors,  and, 

*The  subject  of  a  poem  by  Bret  Harte,  and  of  a  novel  by  Mrs. 
Gertrude  Atherton. 

[3021 


SISTER  DOMINICA 

clad  in  mourning  weeds,  devoted  her  time  and  means 
to  the  poor  and  the  afflicted,  among  whom  she  became 
known  and  idolized  as  '*  the  beautiful  angel  in  black.  ^' 
After  the  death  of  her  parents,  she  endowed  St.  Cath- 
erine's Convent  with  her  inheritance,  took  the  vows  of 
the  Dominican  nun,  and  the  world  saw  her  no  more. 

Early  in  her  sorrow,  she  had  prayed  that  death 
•might  come  to  her  in  the  season  when  the  snow  lay 
deep  on  Siberia's  plain;  and  her  prayer  was  realized, 
for  it  was  on  a  bleak  winter  morning  that  we  pupils 
gathered  in  silence  around  the  breakfast  table,  knowing 
that  Sister  Dominica  lay  upon  her  bier  in  the  chapel. 

The  meal  was  nearly  finished  when  Sister  Amelda 
entered,  and  spoke  to  a  couple  of  the  Spanish  young 
ladies,  who  bowed  and  immediately  withdrew.  As  she 
came  down  the  line  selecting  other  Spanish  friends  of 
the  dead,  she  stopped  beside  me  long  enough  to  say : 

**  You  also  may  go  to  her.  You  comforted  her  in 
life,  and  it  is  fitting  that  you  should  be  among  those 
who  keep  the  last  watch,  and  that  your  prayers  mingle 
with  theirs." 

After  her  burial,  which  was  consecrated  by  monastic 
rites,  I  returned  to  the  schoolroom  with  reverential 
memories  of  Sister  Dominica,  the  once  *^  beautiful  an- 
gel in  black. " 

The  school  year  closed  in  July,  1858,  and  I  left  the 
convent  with  regret.  The  gentle,  self-sacrificing  con- 
duct of  the  nuns  had  destroyed  the  effect  of  the  prej- 
udicial stories  I  had  heard  against  conventual  life. 
The  tender,  ennobling  influences  which  had  surrounded 

[  303  1 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

me  had  been  more  impressive  than  any  I  had  exper- 
ienced during  orphanhood,  and  I  dreaded  what  the 
noisy  world  might  again  have  in  store  for  me. 

My  sister  Frances  and  William  R.  Wilder,  who  had 
been  betrothed  for  more  than  a  year,  and  had  kept 
their  secret  until  we  three  returned  from  the  convent, 
were  married  November  24,  1858,  and  soon  thereafter 
moved  to  a  pleasant  home  of  their  own  on  a  farm  ad-, 
joining  Rancho  de  los  Cazadores.  The  following  Jan- 
uary, Georgia  and  I  entered  public  school  in  Sacra- 
mento, where  we  spent  a  year  and  a  half  in  earnest 
and  arduous  study. 


[304] 


CHAPTER  XXXV 

THE  CHAMBERLAIN  FAMILY,  COUSINS  OF  DANIEL  WEBSTER 
JEFFERSON  GRAMMAR  SCHOOL FURTHER  CONFLICT- 
ING ACCOUNTS  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY PATERNAL  AN- 
CESTRY   S.   O.   HOUGHTON DEATH  TAKES  ONE  OF  THE 

SEVEN  SURVIVING  DONNERS. 

OUR  school  home  in  Sacramento  was  with  friends 
who  not  only  encouraged  our  desire  for  knowl- 
edge, but  made  the  acquirement  pleasant.  The  head 
of  the  house  was  Mr.  William  E.  Chamberlain,  cashier 
of  D.  0.  Mills's  bank.  His  wife,  Charlotte,  was  a  con- 
tributor to  The  Sacramento  Union  and  leading  maga- 
zines. Their  daughter.  Miss  Florence,  taught  in  the 
public  schools;  and  their  son,  William  E.,  Jr.,  was  a 
high-school  student,  preparing  for  Harvard. 

In  addition  to  their  superior  personal  attainments, 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Chamberlain,  each  —  for  they  were 
cousins  —  had  the  distinction  of  being  first  cousins  to 
Daniel  Webster,  and  this  fact  also  served  to  bring  to 
their  home  guests  of  note  and  culture.  Georgia  and  I 
were  too  closely  occupied  with  lessons  to  venture  often 
beyond  the  school-girl  precinct,  but  the  intellectual 
atmosphere  which  pervaded  the  house,  and  the  books 
to  which  we  had  access,  were  of  inestimable  advantage. 
Furthermore,  the  tuition  fees  required  of  non-resident 

[  305  ] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  HONNER  PARTY 

pupils  entitled  them  to  choice  of  district,  and  we  for- 
tunately had  selected  Jefferson  Grammar  School,  No. 
4,  in  charge  of  Mr.  Henry  A  White,  one  of  the  ablest 
educators  in  the  city. 

Several  resident  families  had  also  taken  advantage 
of  this  privilege,  and  elected  to  pay  tuition  and  place 
their  children  under  his  instruction,  thus  bringing  to- 
gether forty-nine  energetic  boys  and  girls  to  whet  each 
other's  ambition  and  incite  class  rivalry.  Among  the 
number  were  the  five  clever  children  of  the  Hon.  Tod 
Robinson ;  three  sons  of  Judge  Robert  Robinson ;  Col- 
onel Zabriskie's  pretty  daughter  Annie;  Banker 
Swift's  stately  Margaret;  General  Redding 's  two  sons; 
Dr.  Oatman's  son  Eugene;  beloved  Nelly  Upton, 
daughter  of  the  editor  of  The  Sacramento  Union; 
Daniel  Yost;  Agnes  Toll,  the  sweet  singer;  and  Eliza 
Denison,  my  chum. 

At  the  end  of  the  term,  The  Daily  Union  closed  its 
account  of  the  public  examination  of  Jetferson  Gram- 
mar School  with  the  following  statement :  ^ '  Among 
Mr.  White's  pupils  are  two  young  ladies,  survivors  of 
the  terrible  disaster  which  befell  the  emigration  of 
1846  among  the  snows  of  the  California  mountains." 

Even  this  cursory  reference  was  a  matter  of  regret 
to  Georgia  and  me.  We  had  entered  school  silent  in 
regard  to  personal  history,  and  did  not  wish  public  at- 
tention turned  toward  ourselves  even  in  an  indirect 
way,  fearing  it  might  lead  to  a  revival  of  the  false  and 
sensational  accounts  of  the  past,  and  we  were  not 
prepared  to  correct  them,  nor  willing  they  should  be 

[  306  1 


''  WHAT  I  SAW  IN  CALIFORNIA  »' 

spread.  Pursued  bj-  these  fears,  we  returned  to  the 
ranch,  where  Elitha  and  her  three  black-eyed  little 
daughters  welcomed  our  home-coming  and  brightened 
our  vacation. 

Almost  coincident,  however,  with  the  foregoing  cir- 
cumstance, Georgia  came  into  possession  of  **  What  I 
Saw  in  California,''  by  Edwin  Bryant;  and  we  found 
that  the  book  did  contain  many  facts  in  connection  with 
our  party's  disaster,  but  they  were  so  interwoven  with 
wild  rumors,  and  the  false  and  sensational  statements 
quoted  from  The  California  Star,  that  they  proved 
nothing,  yet  gave  to  the  untrue  that  appearance  of 
truth  w^hich  is  so  difficult  to  correct. 

The  language  em^jloyed  in  description  seemed  to 
us  so  coarse  and  brutal  that  we  could  not  forgive  its 
injustice  to  the  living,  and  to  the  memory  of  the  dead. 
We  could  but  feel  that  had  simple  facts  been  stated, 
there  would  have  been  no  harrowing  criticism  on  ac- 
count of  long  unburied  corpses  found  in  the  lake 
cabins.  Nor  would  the  sight  of  mutilated  dead  have 
suggested  that  the  starving  survivors  had  become 
**  gloating  cannibals,  preying  on  the  bodies  of  their 
companions.''  Bare  facts  would  have  shown  that  the 
living  had  become  too  emaciated,  too  weak,  to  dig 
graves,  or  to  lift  or  drag  the  dead  up  the  narrow  snow 
steps,  even  had  open  graves  awaited  their  coming. 
Aye,  more,  would  have  shown  conclusively  that  mutila- 
tion of  the  bodies  of  those  who  had  perished  was  never 
from  choice,  never  cannibalistic,  but  dire  necessity's 
last  resort  to  ease  torturing  hunger,  to  prevent  loss  of 

r  307  1 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNEE  PARTY 

reason,  to  save  life.  Loss  of  reason  was  more  dreaded 
than  death  by  the  starving  protectors  of  the  helpless. 

Fair  statements  would  also  have  shown  that  the 
First  Relief  reached  the  camps  with  insufficient  provi- 
sion to  meet  the  pressing  needs  of  the  unfortunate. 
Consequently,  it  felt  the  urgency  of  haste  to  get  as 
many  refugees  as  possible  to  Bear  Valley  before  storms 
should  gather  and  delays  defeat  the  purpose  of  its 
coming;  that  it  divided  what  it  could  conscientiously 
spare  among  those  whom  it  was  obliged  to  leave,  cut 
wood  for  the  fires,  and  endeavored  to  give  encourage- 
ment and  hope  to  the  desponding,  but  did  not  remain 
long  enough  to  remove  or  bury  the  dead. 

Each  succeeding  party  actuated  by  like  anxieties  and 
precautions,  departed  with  its  charges,  leaving  pitiable 
destitution  behind ;  leaving  mournful  conditions  in 
camp, —  conditions  attributable  as  much  to  the  work  of 
time  and  atmospheric  agencies  as  to  the  deplorable 
expedients  to  which  the  starving  were  again  and  again 
reduced. 

With  trembling  hand  Georgia  turned  the  pages,  from 
the  sickening  details  of  the  Star  *  to  the  personal  ob- 
servations of  Edwin  Bryant,  who  in  returning  to  the 
United  States  in  the  Summer  of  1847,  crossed  the 
Sierra  Nevadas  with  General  Kearney  and  escort, 
reached  the  lake  cabins  June  22,  and  wrote  as  follows : 

A  halt  was  called  for  the  purpose  of  interring  the  re- 
mains. Near  the  principal  lake  cabin  I  saw  two  bodies  entire, 
except  the  abdomens  had  been  cut  open  and  entrails  ex- 
tracted.    Their  flesh  had  been  either  wasted  by   famine  or 

*See  Appendix  for  extract  from  The  California  Star. 

[3081 


CAPTAIN  AND  MRS.  DONNER 

evaporated  by  exposure  to  dry  atmosphere,  and  presented 
the  appearance  of  mummies.  Strewn  around  the  cabins  were 
dislocated  and  broken  skulls  (in  some  instances  sawed  asun- 
der with  care  for  the  purpose  of  extracting  the  brains). 
Human  skeletons,  in  short,  in  every  variety  of  mutilation.  A 
more  appalling  spectacle  I  never  witnessed.  The  remains 
were,  by  order  of  General  Kearney,  collected  and  buried 
under  supervision  of  Major  Sword.  They  were  interred  in 
a  pit  dug  in  the  centre  of  one  of  the  cabins  for  a  cache. 
These  melancholy  duties  to  the  dead  being  performed,  the 
cabins,  by  order  of  Major  Sword,  were  fired  and,  with  every- 
thing surrounding  them  connected  with  the  horrible  and 
melancholy  tragedy,  consumed. 

The  body  of  (Captain)  George  Donner  was  found  in 
his  camp  about  eight  miles  distant.  He  had  been  carefully 
laid  out  by  his  wife,  and  a  sheet  was  wrapped  around  the 
corpse.  This  sad  office  was  probably  the  last  act  she  per- 
formed before  visiting  the  camp  of  Keseberg.  He  was  buried 
by  a  party  of  men  detailed  for  that  purpose. 

I  knew  the  Donners  well;  their  means  in  money  and  mer- 
chandise which  they  had  brought  with  them  were  abundant. 
Mr.  Donner  was  a  man  of  about  sixty,  and  was  at  the  time 
of  leaving  the  United  States  a  highly  respectable  citizen  of 
Illinois,  a  farmer  of  independent  means.  Mrs.  Donner  was 
considerably  younger  than  her  husband,  an  energetic  woman 
of  refined  education. 

After  Georgia  left  me,  I  reopened  the  book,  and  pon- 
dered its  revelations,  many  of  them  new  to  us  both; 
and  most  of  them  I  marked  for  later  investigation. 

Bryant  found  no  human  bones  at  Donner  ^s  camp. 
His  description  of  that  camp  was  all-important,  prov- 
ing that  my  father's  body  had  not  been  mutilated,  but 
lay  in  his  mountain  hut  three  long  months,  sacred  as 
when  left  by  my  little  mother,  who  had  watched  over 
him  to  the  pitiful  end,  had  closed  his  eyes,  folded  his 
arms  across  his  breast,  and  wrapped  the  burial  sheet 

[  309  ] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

about  his  precious  form.  There,  too,  was  proot  of  his 
last  resting-place,  just  as  had  been  told  me  in  sight 
of  Jakie 's  .grave,  by  the  Cherokee  woman  in  Sonoma. 
The  book  had  also  a  copy  of  Colonel  McKinstrey's 
letter  to  the  General  Relief  Committee  in  San  Fran- 
cisco, reporting  the  return  of  the  first  rescuerb  with 
refugees.  In  speaking  of  the  destitution  of  the 
unfortunates  in  camp,  he  used  the  following  words 
sympathically : 

When  the  party  arrived  at  camp,  it  was  obliged  to  guard 
the  little  stock  of  provisions  it  had  carried  over  the  mountains 
on  its  back  on  foot,  for  the  relief  of  the  poor  beings,  as  they 
were  in  such  a  starving  condition  that  thej^  would  have  imme- 
diately used  up  all  the  little  store.  They  even  stole  the  buck- 
skin strings  from  the  party's  snowshoes  and  ate  them. 

I  at  once  recognized  this  friendly  paragraph  as  the 
one  which  had  had  its  kindness  extracted,  and  been 
abbreviated  and  twisted  into  that  cruel  taunt  which  I 
had  heard  in  my  childhood  from  the  lips  of  ^^  Picayune 
Butler. '^ 

A  careful  study  of  Bryant's  work  increased  my  de- 
sire to  sift  that  of  Thornton,  for  I  had  been  told  that 
it  not  only  contained  the  ^^  Fallon  Diary,''  but 
lengthier  extracts  from  the  Star,  and  I  wanted  to  com- 
pare and  analyze  those  details  which  had  been  pub- 
lished as  "  Thrilling  Events  in  California  History." 
I  was  unable  to  procure  the  book  then,  but  resolved  to 
do  so  when  opportunity  should  occur.  Naturally,  we 
who  see  history  made,  are  solicitous  that  it  be  ac- 
curately recorded,  especially  when  it  vitally  concerns 
those  near  to  us. 

[3101 


THE  CROSS  AT  DONNER  LAKE 


EEVELATION  OF  LINEAGE 

Shortly  before  school  reopened,  Georgia  and  I  spent 
the  day  with  cousin  Frances  E.  Bond ;  and  in  relating 
to  her  various  incidents  of  our  life,  we  spoke  of  the 
embarrassment  we  had  felt  in  class  the  day  that  Mr. 
White  asked  every  pupil  whose  ancestors  had  fought 
in  the  war  of  the  American  Revolution  to  rise,  and 
Georgia  and  I  were  the  only  ones  who  remained  seated. 
My  cousin  regarded  us  a  moment  and  then  said: 

**  Your  Grandfather  Eustis,  although  a  widow's  only 
son,  and  not  yet  sixteen  years  of  age,  enlisted  when 
the  Revolutionary  War  began.  He  was  a  sentinel  at 
Old  South  Church,  and  finally,  a  prisoner  aboard  the 
Count  d'Estang/' 

She  would  have  stopped  there,  but  we  begged  for 
all  she  knew  about  our  mother's  people,  so  she  con- 
tinued, mingling  advice  with  information: 

^'  I  would  rather  that  you  should  not  know  the  dif- 
ference between  their  position  in  life  and  your  own; 
yet,  if  you  must  know  it,  the  Eustis  and  the  Wheel- 
wright families,  from  whom  you  are  descended,  are 
among  the  most  substantial  and  influential  of  New 
England.  Their  reputation,  however,  is  not  a  prop 
for  you  to  lean  on.  They  are  on  the  Atlantic  coast, 
you  on  the  Pacific ;  so  your  future  depends  upon  your 
own  merit  and  exertions.'' 

This  revelation  of  lineage,  nevertheless,  was  an 
added  incentive  to  strive  for  higher  things ;  an  inherit- 
ance more  enduring  than  our  little  tin  box  and  black 
silk  stockings  which  had  belonged  to  mother. 

An  almost  indescribable  joy  was  mine  when,  at  a 

[311] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

gathering  of  the  school  children  to  do  honor  to  the  cit- 
izens who  had  inaugurated  the  system  of  public  in- 
struction in  Sacramento,  I  beheld  on  the  platform 
Captain  John  A.  Sutter.  Memories  both  painful  and 
grateful  were  evoked.  It  was  he  who  had  first  sent 
food  to  the  starving  travellers  in  tlie  Sierra  Nevada 
Mountains.  It  was  he  who  had  laid  his  hand  on  my 
head,  when  a  forlorn  little  waif  at  the  Port,  tenderly 
saying,  *^  Poor  little  girl,  I  wish  I  could  give  back 
what  you  have  lost!  '^ 

To  me.  Captain  Sutter  had  long  been  the  embodi- 
ment of  all  that  was  good  and  grand;  and  now  I 
longed  to  touch  his  hand  and  whisper  to  him  gratitude 
loo  sacred  for  strangers'  ears.  But  the  opportunity 
was  withheld  until  riper  years. 

During  our  last  term  at  school,  Georgia 's  health  was 
so  improved  that  my  life  was  more  free  of  cares  and 
aglow  with  fairer  promises.  Miss  Kate  Robinson  and 
I  were  rivals  for  school  honors,  and  I  studied  as  I 
never  had  studied  before,  for  in  the  history,  physiol- 
ogy, and  rhetoric  classes,  she  pressed  me  hard.  At  the 
close  of  the  session  the  record  showed  a  tie.  Neither 
of  us  would  accept  determination  by  lot,  and  we  re- 
spectfully asked  the  Honorable  Board  of  Education 
to  withhold  the  medal  for  that  year. 

About  this  time  Georgia  and  I  enjoyed  a  rare  sur- 
prise. On  his  return  from  business  one  day,  Mr. 
Chamberlain  announced  that  a  distinguished-appear- 
ing young  lawyer,  S.  O.  Houghton  by  name,  had 
stopped  at  the  bank  that  afternoon,  to  learn  our  ad- 

r  312  ] 


MARY  DONNER 

dress  and  say  that  he  would  call  in  the  evening.  We, 
knowing  that  he  was  the  husband  of  our  ''  little  cou- 
sin Mary,"  were  anxious  to  meet  him  and  to  hear  of 
her,  whom  we  had  not  seen  since  our  journey  across 
the  snow.  He  came  that  evening,  and  told  us  of  the 
cozy  home  in  San  Jose  to  which  he  had  taken  his  young 
wife,  and  of  her  wish  that  we  visit  them  the  coming 
July  or  August. 

Although  letters  had  passed  between  us,  up  to  this 
time  we  had  known  little  of  Mary's  girlhood  life. 
After  we  parted,  in  1847,  she  was  carried  through  to 
San  Francisco,  then  called  Yerba  Buena,  where  her 
maimed  foot  was  successfully  treated  by  the  surgeon 
of  the  United  States  ship  Portsmouth.  The  cit- 
izens of  that  place  j)urchased  and  presented  to  her  the 
one  hundred  vara  lot  Number  38,  and  the  lot  adjoining 
to  her  brother  George.  Mr.  Reed  was  appointed  her 
guardian  and  given  charge  of  her  apportionment  of 
funds  realized  from  the  sale  of  goods  brought  from 
her  father's  tents.  She  became  a  member  of  the  Reed 
household  in  San  Jose,  and  her  life  must  have  been 
cast  in  pleasant  lines,  for  she  always  spoke  of  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Reed  with  filial  affection.  Moreover,  her  brother 
had  been  industrious  and  prosperous,  and  had  con- 
tributed generously  to  her  comfort  and  happiness. 

Some  weeks  later,  we  took  Mr.  Houghton's  report 
home  to  Elitha.  We  also  showed  her  a  recent  letter 
from  Mary,  sparkling  with  bright  anticipations  —  an- 
ticipations never  to  be  realized;  for  we  girls  were 
liardly  settled  on  the  ranch  before  a  letter  came  from 

[3131 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PAETY 

cousin  George  Donner,  dated  Sacramento,  June  20, 
1860.  From  this  we  learned  that  he  had  on  that  day 
been  summoned  to  the  bedside  of  his  dying  sister,  and 
had  come  from  his  home  on  Putah  Creek  as  fast  as 
horse  could  carry  him,  yet  had  failed  to  catch  the  bay 
steamer;  and  while  waiting  for  the  next  boat,  was 
writing  to.  us  who  could  best  understand  his  state  of 
mind. 

Next,  a  note  from  San  Jose  informed  us  that  Mrs. 
Mary  M.  Houghton  died  June  21, 1860,  leaving  a  name- 
sake, a  daughter  two  weeks  old,  and  that  her  brother 
had  reached  there  in  time  for  the  funeral. 

Of  the  seven  Donners  who  had  survived  the  disaster, 
she  was  the  first  called  by  death,  and  we  deeply 
mourned  her  loss,  and  grieved  because  another  little 
Mary  was  motherless.  The  following  August,  Mr. 
Houghton  made  his  first  visit  to  Rancho  de  los  Caz- 
adores,  and  with  fatherly  pride,  showed  the  likeness  of 
his  little  girl,  and  promised  to  keep  us  all  in  touch  with 
her  by  letter. 

Mr.  Houghton  was  closely  identified  with  pioneer  af- 
fairs, and  we  had  many  friends  in  common,  especially 
among  officers  and  soldiers  of  the  Mexican  War.  He 
had  enlisted  in  Company  A  of  Stevenson's  Regiment 
of  New  York  Volunteers  when  barely  eighteen  years  of 
age;  and  sailed  with  it  from  his  native  State  on  the 
twenty-sixth  of  September,  1846.  After  an  eventful 
voyage  by  way  of  Cape  Horn,  the  good  ship  Loo 
Choo,  which  bore  him  hither,  cast  anchor  in  the  Bay 
of  San  Francisco,  March  26,  1847,  about  the  time  the 

[3141 


S.  0.  HOUGHTON  ' 

Third  Eelief  was  bringing  us  little  girls  over  the 
mountains.  His  company  being  part  of  the  detach- 
ment ordered  to  Mexico  under  Colonel  Burton,  he  went 
at  once  into  active  service,  was  promoted  through  in- 
termediate grades,  and  appointed  lieutenant,  and  ad- 
jutant on  the  staff  of  Colonel  Burton,  before  his  twen- 
tieth year.  Following  an  honorable  discharge  at  the 
close  of  the  war,  and  a  year's  exciting  experiences  in 
the  gold  fields,  he  settled  in  San  Jose  in  November, 
1849,  then  the  capital  city.  His  knowledge  of  the 
Spanish  and  French  languages  fitting  him  specially 
therefor,  he  turned  his  attention  to  legislative  and  mu- 
nicipal matters.  As  clerk  of  the  Senate  Judiciary  Com- 
mittee of  the  first  session  of  the  California  Legislature, 
he  helped  to  formulate  statutes  for  enactment,  they  be- 
ing promulgated  in  Spanish  as  well  as  English  at  that 
time.  During  the  period  between  1851  and  1860  he 
held  several  official  positions,  among  them  that  of 
president  of  the  City  Council;  and  on  his  twenty-fiftli 
birthday  he  was  elected  Mayor  of  San  Jose.  Mean- 
while he  had  organized  the  Eagle  Gu^rd,  one  of  the 
first  independent  military  companies  in  the  State,  and 
had  also  been  successively  promoted  from  adjutant  to 
ordnance  officer,  with  the  rank  of  lieutenant-colonel, 
on  Major-General  Halleck's  staff  of  the  State  Militia. 
Moreover,  he  had  completed  the  study  of  law  in  the 
office  of  Judge  W.  T.  Wallace,  been  admitted  to  the 
bar,  and  was  now  actively  engaged  in  the  practice 
of  his  profession. 


[315 


CHAPTEE  XXXVI 

NEWS    OF    THE   BKUNNERS LETTERS    FROM    GRANDPA. 

MORE  than  two  years  had  elapsed  since  we  had 
heard  directly  from  Sonoma,  when,  on  the  day 
before  Thanksgiving,  1860,  Judge  Robert  Robinson  and 
wife,  of  Sacramento,  came  to  the  ranch,  and  he,  in  his 
pleasing  way,  announced  that  he  and  Mrs.  Robinson 
had  a  little  story  to  tell,  and  a  message  to  deliver, 
which  would  explain  why  they  had  arrived  unexpect- 
edly to  spend  the  national  holiday  with  us.  Then  seat- 
ing himself,  he  bowed  to  his  wife,  and  listened  in  cor- 
roborative silence  while  she  related  the  following 
incident : 

'^  Last  Summer  when  the  Judge  went  on  his  circuit, 
he  took  the  carriage,  and  I  accompanied  him  on  his 
travels.  One  day  we  stopped  for  dinner  at  the  stage 
station  between  Sonoma  and  Santa  Rosa.  After  we 
had  registered,  the  proprietor  approached  us,  saying : 
'  I  see  you  are  from  Sacramento,  and  wonder  if  you 
know  anything  about  a  couple  of  young  girls  by  the 
name  of  Downie,  who  spent  some  time  there  in  tlie 
public  school?  '  He  seemed  disappointed  when  we  re- 
plied, *  We  know  Donners,  but  not  Downies.'  ^  Well,' 
he  continued,  *  they  are  strangers  to  me;  but  I  am  in- 
terested in  them  on  account  of  tlieir  former  connection 

r  316  1 


GRANDMA  BRUNNEE^S  CHILDREN 

with  an  unfortunate  little  old  German  woman  who  fre- 
quently comes  in  on  the  stage  that  runs  between  So- 
noma and  Santa  Rosa.  She  carries  their  pictures  in  her 
hand-bag  and  tells  a  touching  story  about  her  hap- 
piness when  they  lived  with  her. '  Just  tlien  the  stage 
stopped  before  the  door,  and  he,  looking  out,  ex- 
claimed, *  Why,  she  is  among  the  passengers  to-day! 
With  your  permission,  I  '11  bring  her  to  you.' 

^'  He  introduced  her  as  Mrs.  Brunner,  told  her 
where  we  were  from,  and  asked  her  to  show  us  the 
picture  of  her  little  girls.  After  shaking  hands  with 
us,  she  took  the  seat  offered,  and  nervously  drew  from 
lier  reticule  a  handsomely  inlaid  case,  which  she 
opened  and  handed  to  us.  An  expression  of  pride  and 
tenderness  lighted  her  worn  features  as  Judge  and  I 
at  once  exclaimed,  pointing  to  one  and  then  the  other, 
'  Why,  this  is  Georgia,  and  this,.  Eliza  Donner.  We 
know  them  well  and  call  them  ^^  our  girls  "  in  Sacra- 
mento! '  " 

"  She  sprang  from  her  seat,  and  stood  with  one  hand 
on  Judge's  shoulder,  and  the  other  on  mine,  saying 
earnestly, 

"  ^  Yes!  You  do  know  my  children?  Be  they  well, 
and  doing  well!  ' 

^^  We  had  to  talk  fast  in  order  to  answer  all  lior 
questions,  and  a  number  of  listeners  drew  nearer  and 
were  considerably  affected  as  the  poor  old  soul  said, 
'  Please  shake  hands  with  me  again  for  them,  aud 
tell  them  that  you  talked  with  their  old   Grandma 

[317] 


THE   EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

Brunner,  that  loves  them  now  just  the  same  as  when 
they  was  little.' 

■^  Judge  and  I  assured  her  that  we  would  deliver 
her  messages  in  person,  as  soon  as  we  should  get  time 
to  look  you  up.  After  dinner  we  saw  her  reseated  in 
the  stage,  and  the  black  silk  reticule  containing  the 
picture  was  upon  her  lap  as  the  stage  carried  her 
homeward. ' ' 

We  learned  from  them  further  that  grandpa  had 
been  convicted  of  manslaughter  and  sentenced  to  San 
Quentin  Prison  for  a  term  of  eleven  years,  and  that 
grandma  had  been  granted  a  divorce,  and  awarded 
all  the  property,  but  was  having  great  trouble  be- 
cause it  had  since  become  involved  and  was  being- 
frittered  away  in  litigation. 

The  information  given  by  the  Robinsons  increased 
our  uneasiness  for  our  trouble-worn  friends.  Since  the 
tragedy,  Georgia  and  I  had  often  spoken  of  tliem  to 
one  another,  but  to  no  one  else.  We  knew  that  few 
could  understand  them  as  we  did,  and  we  refrained 
from  exposing  them  to  unnecessary  criticism.  Anx- 
ious as  we  were  to  comfort  them,  it  was  not  in  our 
power  to  do  more  than  endeavor  again  to  reach  them 
by  letter.  The  first  was  despatched  to  grandma  at  So- 
noma, the  day  after  the  departure  of  our  guests ;  and 
shortly  before  Christmas  I  posted  one  to  grandpa.  The 
former  was  answered  quickly,  and  so  pathetically  that 
brother  Ben  offered  to  take  us  to  Sonoma  for  a  visit 
in  the  early  Spring  and  then  to  see  what  could  be 
done  for  grandma. 

[318] 


LETTERS  FROM  CHRISTIAN  BRUNNER 

The  letter  to  grandpa  did  not  reach  him  until  Jan- 
uary 27,  1861,  but  his  reply  left  San  Quentin  by 
Wells-Fargo  Express  on  the  twenty-eighth  of  January. 
It  was  a  brave  letter,  closing  with  the  following 
mystifying  paragraph : 

Though  I  may  be  confined  by  prison  walls,  I  wish  those 
dear  to  me  to  be  happy  and  joyous  as  they  can,  and  I  trust 
in  God  to  open  a  way  for  me  out  of  here,  when  I  can  see  you 
all;  which  will  make  us  all  very  happy. 

Your  affectionate  grandfather. 

Christian  Bruni^ter. 

His  next  communication  contained  a  thrilling  sur- 
prise which  cleared  the  lurking  mystery  of  his  former 
letter,  and  expressed  such  joyous  appreciation  of  his 
regained  privileges  that  I  once  more  quote  his  own 
words,  from  the  letter  yellowed  by  age,  which  lies 
before  me. 

Sonoma,  March  25,  1861 
Dear  Eliza  and  Georgia: 

Your  kind  and  friendly  letter  reached  me  about  ten  days 
ago,  and  I  would  have  responded  to  the  same  right  away, 
but  waited  a  few  days,  so  that  I  could  give  you  some  good 
news,  over  which  you,  my  dear  little  girls,  will  surely  rejoice, 
as  you  take  so  much  interest  in  everything  which  myself  con- 
cerns.    This  news  is  that  I  am  free  again. 

Last  Tuesday  I  received,  through  the  influence  of  friends, 
from  the  Governor  of  the  State  of  California,  a  full  pardon, 
and  am  again  in  Sonoma;  and  as  soon  as  I  have  my  business 
affairs  in  such  a  way  settled  that  I  can  leave  for  a  week  or 
two,  I  will  come  up  and  see  you.  I  have  much  to  tell  you 
which  you  will  better  understand  through  a  personal  inter- 
view than  by  writing. 

Yours  friendly, 

C.  Brunner 

Georgia  and  I  felt  this  news  was  almost  too  good  to 

be  true.     We  wondered  how  soon  he  would  come  to  see 

r  319 1 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

us;  wondered  also,  if  he  and  grandma  had  met,  and 
were  glad  that  we  had  not  taken  the  side  of  either 
against  the  other. 

**  What  next!  '^  was  the  pertinent  question  upper- 
most in  our  minds.  We  found  the  answer  in  The  Sac- 
ramento Daily  Union,  early  in  April,  under  title  of 
^^  Romance  in  Real  Life."  After  a  brief  review  of 
the  troubles  of  the  Brunners,  and  reference  to  their 
divorcement,  the  article  announced  their  recent  re- 
marriage. 

This  gratifying  circumstance  made  our  long  in- 
tended trip  to  Sonoma  unnecessary,  especially  since 
the  reunited  couple  seemed  to  have  retained  the  sym- 
pathy and  loyalty  of  those  who  had  known  them  in 
their  days  of  prosperity  and  usefulness. 


[3201 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 

ARKIVAL    OF    THE    FIRST    PONY    EXPRESS. 

1  HAPPENED  to  be  in  Sacramento  on  the  thirteenth 
day  of  April,  1861,  and  found  the  city  full  of  ir- 
repressible excitement.  Men  on  gayly  caparisoned 
horses  galloping  hither  and  thither,  unfurled  flags,  and 
a  general  air  of  expectancy  on  eager  faces  everywhere 
betokened  an  occasion  of  rare  moment.  At  times  hats 
were  swung  aloft  and  cheers  rang  out  tumultuously, 
only  to  be  hushed  by  the  disappointing  murmur,  **  Not 
yet."  But  an  instant's  quiet,  and  there  was  a  mad 
rush  of  the  populace  toward  Sutter 's  Fort ;  then  again 
enthusiasm  died,  and  the  crowds  ebbed  back  up  J 
Street,  which,  some  eight  or  ten  feet  higher  than  any 
other  street  in  the  city,  extended  straight  as  an  arrow 
from  the  fort  to  where  the  bay  steamer  lightly  hugged 
the  water  front,  puffing  and  impatient  to  be  off  to  San 
Francisco. 

So  the  anxious  waiting  continued  until  the  day  was 
well  on  to  its  close,  when  suddenly,  vociferous  cheers 
again  rent  the  air,  and  this  time  knew  no  cessation. 
What  a  din!  With  leap  and  outcry,  all  faced  Sutter's 
Fort.     That  was  a  spectacle  to  be  remembered. 

Pony!    The  pony,  hurrah,  hurrah!    We  see  a  dark 

r  321 1  .       • 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

speck  in  the  distance.  It  grows,  as  up  J  Street  it 
comes.  Now,  the  pony  foams  before  us ;  now,  swift 
as  the  wind,  it  is  gone.  It  passes  reception  committee, 
jDasses  escort.  It  reaches  the  water  front;  down  the 
gang-plank  it  dashes;  the  band  plays,  the  whistle 
blows,  the  bell  rings,  the  steamer  catches  the  middle 
of  the  stream  and  is  off,  leaving  a  trail  of  sparks  and 
smoke  in  the  twilight,  and  bearing  away  the  first 
^*  Pony  Express, '^  memorable  in  history. 

The  baffling  problem  is  solved:  the  dream  of  years 
is  realized;  expeditious  mail  service  with  the  East 
is  an  accomplished  fact. 

No  wonder  the  people  cheered!  It  was  a  gigantic 
scheme,  well  conceived,  magnificently  executed.  Think 
of  it,  a  stretch  of  two  thousand  miles  of  mountain  wild 
and  desert  plain  covered  in  twelve  days ! 

How  was  it  done!  Horses  were  tested  and  riders 
selected  by  weight  and  power  of  endurance.  The  lat- 
ter were  boys  in  years  —  Bill  Cody,  the  youngest,  said 
to  be  only  fourteen  years  of  age.  The  pouch  was 
light,  its- contents  were  limited  —  but  how  gladly  five 
dollars  per  letter  was  paid  for  those  precious  missives. 

Every  detail  was  carefully  arranged.  The  first 
mount  left  St.  Joseph,  Missouri,  April  2;  relay  camps 
w^ere  established  ten  miles  apart,  with  a  horse  ever  in 
readiness  for  instantaneous  exchange,  and  a  fresh 
rider,  mounted  for  the  next  run,  was  waiting  at  each 
successive  hundred-mile  station  along  the  entire  route. 

Small  wonder  those  pioneers  were  beside  themselves 

r  322  1 


PONY  EXPRESS 

with  enthusiastic  excitement.  The  minds  of  many  re- 
verted to  personal  experiences  with  ox  team,  or  jog- 
trot of  horses  or  mule  train.  Here  was  the  Overland 
Stage  outdone;  even  the  speed  with  which  Monk 
Hanks  brought  Horace  Greeley  over  the  mountains 
was  at  discount. 


[  323 1 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII 

WAR     AND     RUMORS     OF     WAR MARRIAGE SONOMA     RE- 
VISITED. 

THE  Summer  of  1861,  now  well  advanced,  was  rife 
with  war  and  rumors  of  war,  and  f  oreshadowings 
of  coming  events.  The  old  and  the  young  were  flushed 
Avith  patriotism,  each  eager  to  help  his  country 's  cause. 
I,  remembering  graiidma's  training,  was  ready  to  give 
my  services  to  hospital  work.  Earnest  as  was  this 
desire,  however,  I  was  dissuaded  from  taking  definite 
steps  in  that  direction  by  those  who  knew  that  my 
slender  physique  and  girlish  appearance  would  defeat 
my  purpose  before  the  board  of  appointing  physicians. 
Moreover,  Mr.  Houghton's  visits  and  frequent  letters 
were  changing  my  earlier  plans  for  the  future,  and 
finally  led  to  my  naming  the  tenth  of  October,  1861,  as 
our  wedding  day. 

The  ceremony  was  solemnized  by  the  Rev.  J.  A. 
Benton,  of  Sacramento.  The  event  is  also  noteworthy 
as  being  the  occasion  of  the  first  reunion  of  the  five 
Donner  sisters  since  their  parting  at  Sutter's  Fort  in 
June,  1847.  Georgia's  place  was  by  my  side,  while 
Elitha,  Leanna,  and  Frances  each  grouped  with  hus- 
band and  children  in  front  among  friends,  who  had 
come  to  witness  the  plighting  of  vows  between  my  hero 

r  324  1  ■ 


THE  WEDDING  JOURNEY 

and  me.  Not  until  I  had  donned  my  travelling  suit, 
and  my  little  white  Swiss  wedding  dress  was  being 
packed,  did  I  fully  realize  that  the  days  of  inseparable 
companionship  between  Georgia  and  me  were  past 
She  had  long  been  assured  that  in  my  new  home  a 
welcome  would  be  ever  ready  for  her,  yet  she  had 
thoughtfully  answered,  "  No,  I  am  not  needed  there, 
and  I  feel  that  I  am  needed  here.'' 

Nature's  wedding  gift  to  us  was  a  week  of  glorious 
weather,  and  its  first  five  days  we  passed  in  San 
Francisco,  the  bustling,  historic  city,  which  I  knew  so 
well,  yet  had  never  seen  before.  Then  we  boarded 
the  afternoon  boat  up  the  bay,  expecting  to  spend  the 
evening  and  following  morning  in  Sonoma  with 
Grandpa  and  Grandma  Brunner,  but  the  vessel  failed 
to  reach  Lakeside  Landing  in  time  to  connect  with  the 
northbound  coach.  This  mischance  necessitated  our 
staying  overnight  at  the  only  hostelry  in  the  place. 

The  cry,  ' '  All  aboard  for  Sonoma !  ' '  hurried  us 
from  the  table  next  morning,  and  on  reaching  the 
sidewalk,  we  learned  that  the  proprietor  of  the  hotel 
had  bespoken  the  two  best  seats  in  the  coach  for  us. 

I  was  too  happy  to  talk  until  after  we  crossed  the 
Sonoma  River,  shaded  by  grand  old  oak,  sycamore, 
and  laurel  trees,  and  then  onward,  I  was  too  happy  to 
remain  silent.  Before  us  lay  the  valley  which  brought 
back  memories  of  my  childhood,  and  I  was  in  a  mood 
to  recall  only  the  brightest,  as  we  sped  on  to  our  des- 
tination. My  companion  shared  my  delight  and  gave 
heed  to  each  scene  I  called  to  his  attention. 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

The  coach  stopped  in  front  of  the  hotel,  and  we 
alighted  upon  almost  the  same  spot  from  which  I 
had  climbed  into  the  carriage  to  leave  Sonoma  six 
years  earlier.  But,  oh,  how  changed  was  everything! 
One  sweejjing  glance  at  the  little  town  revealed  the 
fact  that  it  had  passed  its  romantic  age  and  lost  its 
quickening  spirit.  Closed  were  the  homes  of  the  old 
Spanisli  families;  gone  were  the  caballeros  and  the 
bright-eyed  senoritas;  grass-grown  was  the  highway 
to  the  mines ;  the  flagstaff  alone  remained  flushed  with 
its  old-time  dignity  and  importance.  In  subdued 
mood,  I  stepped  into  the  parlor  until  our  names  should 
be  registered.     When  my  husband  returned,  I  said, 

^^  The  carpet  on  this  floor,  the  chairs  in  this  room, 
and  the  pictures  on  these  walls  were  in  place  in 
grandma's  home  when  I  left  her  —  perhaps  she  is  no 
longer  living.'' 

He  left  me  again  to  make  inquiry  concerning  those 
whom  we  had  come  to  see,  and  ascertained  that  the 
Brunners  had  remarried  for  the  purpose  of  facilitating 
the  readjustment  of  their  property  rights,  and  of  res- 
cuing them  from  the  hands  of  a  scheming  manager, 
who,  with  his  family,  was  now  living  on  the  estate,  and 
caring  for  grandma,  but  would  not  permit  grandpa  to 
enter  the  house. 

After  sending  a  messenger  to  find  grandpa,  I  led 
the  way  to  the  open  door  of  the  old  liome,  then  slipped 
aside  to  let  my  husband  seek  admission.     He  rapped. 

I  heard  a  side  door  open,  uneven  footsteps  in  the 
hall,  and  him  saying  quietly,  *  *  I  think  the  old  lady  her- 

[3261 


REUNITED  WITH  GRANDMA  BRUNNER 

self  is  coming,  and  you  had  better  meet  her  alone/'  I 
crossed  the  threshold,  opened  my  arms,  and  uttered 
the  one  word,  ^  ^  Grandma !  ' ' 

She  came  and  rested  her  head  against  my  bosom 
and  I  folded  my  arms  about  her  just  as  she  had 
enfolded  me  when  I  went  to  her  a  lonely  child  yearning 
for  love.  She  stirred,  then  drew  back,  looked  up  into 
my  face  and  asked,  "  Who  be  you!  '' 

Touched  by  her  wistful  gaze,  I  exclaimed, 
^^  Grandma,  don't  you  know  me!  " 

**  Be  you  Eliza?  "  she  asked,  and  when  I  had  given 
answer,  she  turned  from  me  in  deepest  emotion,  mur- 
muring, ^*  No,  no,  it  can't  be  my  little  Eliza!  "  She 
would  have  tottered  away  had  I  not  supported  her  to 
a  seat  in  the  well-remembered  living  room  and  car- 
essed her  until  she  looked  up  through  her  tears,  say- 
ing, ^^  When  you  smile,  you  be  my  little  Eliza,  but 
when  you  look  serious,  I  don't  know  you." 

She  inquired  about  Georgia,  and  how  I  came  to  be 
there  without  her.  Then  she  bade  me  call  my  hus- 
band, and  thanked  him  for  brmging  me  to  her.  For- 
getting all  the  faults  and  shortcomings  that  once  had 
troubled  her  sorely,  she  spoke  of  my  busy  childhood 
and  the  place  I  had  won  in  the  affections  of  all  wlio 
knew  me. 

A  tender  impulse  took  her  from  us  a  moment.  She 
returned,  saying,  *^  Now,  you  must  not  feel  bad  when 
you  see  what  I  have  in  the  hand  behind  me,"  and 
drawing  it  forth  continued,  ''  This  white  lace  veil 
which  I  bought  at  Sutter's  Fort  when  your  mother's 

[327] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

things  were  sold  at  auction,  is  to  cover  my  face  when 
I  am  dead ;  and  this  picture  of  us  three  is  to  be  buried 
in  the  coffin  with  me.  I  want  your  husband  to  see  how 
3^ou  looked  when  you  was  little." 

She  appeared  proudly  happy;  but  a  flame  of  em- 
barrassment burned  my  cheeks,  as  she  handed  him 
the  picture  wherein  I  showed  to.  such  disadvantage, 
with  the  question,  ^^  Now,  doesn't  she  look  lovely!  " 
and  heard  his  affirmative  reply. 

Upon  the  clock  lay  a  broken  toy  which  had  been 
mine,  and  in  childlike  ecstasy  she  sjjoke  of  it  and  of 
others  which  she  had  kept  ever  near  her.  When  in- 
vited to  go  to  luncheon  with  us,  she  brought  first  her 
bonnet,  next  her  shawl,  for  me  to  hold  while  she  should 
don  her  best  apparel  for  the  occasion.  Instead  of 
going  directly,  she  insisted  on  choosing  the  longer  road 
to  town,  that  we  might  stop  at  Mrs.  Lewis's  to  see  if 
she  and  her  daughter  Sallie  would  recognize  me.  Fre- 
quently as  we  walked  along,  she  hastened  in  advance, 
and  then  faced  about  on  the  road  to  watch  us  draw 
near.  When  we  reached  Mrs.  Lewis's  door,  she 
charged  me  not  to  smile,  and  clapped  her  hands  when 
both  ladies  appeared  and  called  me  by  name. 

As  we  were  taking  leave,  an  aged  horseman  drew 
rein  at  the  gate  and  dismounted,  and  Mrs,  Lewis  look- 
ing up,  exclaimed,  '^  Why,  there  is  Mr.  Brunner!  " 

It  did  not  take  me  long  to  meet  him  part  way  down 
the  walk,  nor  did  I  shrink  from  the  caress  he  gave  me, 
nor  know  how  much  joy  and  pain  that  meeting  evoked 
in  him,  even  after  he  turned  to  Mr.  Houghton  saying 

[328] 


WELCOMED  BY  FRIENDS 

fervently,  **  Do  not  be  angry  because  I  kiss  your  wife 
and  put  my  arms  around  her,  for  she  is  my  child  come 
back  to  me.  I  helped  raise  her,  and  we  learned  her 
to  do  all  kinds  of  work,  what  is  useful,  and  she  was 
my  comfort  child  in  my  troubles." 

My  husband's  reply  seemed  to  dispel  the  recollec- 
tions which  had  made  the  reunion  distressing,  and 
grandpa  led  his  horse  and  walked  and  talked  with  us 
until  we  reached  the  turn  where  he  bade  us  leave  him 
while  he  disposed  of  Antelope  preparatory  to  joining 
us  at  luncheon.  Proceeding,  we  observed  an  increas- 
ing crowd  in  front  of  the  hotel,  massed  together  as  if 
in  waiting.  As  we  drew  nearer,  a  way  was  opened  for 
our  passage,  and  friends  and  acquaintances  stepped 
forth,  shook  hands  with  me  and  desired  to  be  intro- 
duced to  my  husband.  It  was  apparent  that  the  mes- 
sage which  we  had  sent  to  grandpa  early  in  the  day, 
stating  the  hour  we  would  be  at  the  hotel,  had  spread 
among  the  people,  who  were  now  assembled  for  the 
purpose  of  meeting  us. 

Strangers  also  were  among  them,  for  I  heard  the 
whispered  answer  many  times,  **  Why,  that  is  little 
Eliza  Donner,  who  used  to  live  with  the  Brunners, 
and  that  is  Mr.  Houghton,  her  husband  —  they  can 
only  stay  until  two  o'clock."  The  hotel  table,  usually 
more  than  ample  to  accommodate  its  guests,  was  not 
nearly  large  enough  for  all  who  followed  to  the  din- 
ing-room, so  the  smiling  host  placed  another  table 
across  the  end  for  many  who  had  intended  to  lunch 
at  home  that  day. 

r  329  1 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

Meantime,  our  little  party  was  seated,  with  Mr. 
Houghton  at  the  head  of  the  table,  I  at  his  right; 
grandpa  opposite  me,  and  grandma  at  my  right.  She 
was  supremely  happy,  would  fold  her  hands  in  her 
lap  and  say,  '^  If  you  please,"  and  ^'  Thank  you,"  as 
I  served  her ;  and  I  was  grateful  that  she  claimed  my 
attention,  for  grandpa's  lips  were  mute. 

He  strove  for  calm,  endeavoring  to  eat  that  he 
might  the  better  conceal  the  unbidden  tears  which 
coursed  down  his  cheeks.  Not  until  we  reached  a 
secluded  retreat  for  our  farewell  talk,  did  his  emotion 
express  itself  in  words.  Grasping  my  husband's  hand 
he  said: 

* '  My  friend,  I  must  leave  you.  I  broke  bread  and 
tasted  salt  with  you,  but  I  am  too  heartsick  to  visit, 
or  to  say  good-bye.  You  bring  back  my  child,  a  bride, 
and  I  have  no  home  to  welcome  her  in,  no  wedding- 
feast,  or  happiness  to  offer.  I  must  see  and  talk 
with  her  in  the  house  of  strangers,  and  it  inakes  me 
suffer  more  than  I  can  bear !  But  before  I  go,  I  want 
you  both  to  make  me  the  promise  that  you  will  always 
work  together,  and  have  but  one  home,  one  purse,  one 
wish  in  life,  so  that  when  you  be  old,  you  will  not 
have  to  walk  separately  lij^e  we  do.  You  will  not  have 
bitter  thoughts  and  blame  one  another." 

Here  grandma  interrupted  meekly,  ^^  I  know  I  did 
wrong,  but  I  did  not  mean  to,  and  I  be  sorry." 

The  pause  which  followed  our  given  promise  af- 
forded me  the  opportunity  to  clasp  their  withered 
hands  together  between  mine,  and  gain  from  grandpa 

[  330  ] 


THE  RETURN 

an  earnest  pledge  that  he  would  watch  over  and  be 
kind  to  her,  who  had  married  him  when  he  was  poor 
and  in  ill  health ;  who  had  toiled  for  hini  through  the 
long  years  of  his  convalescence;  who  had  been  the 
power  behind  the  throne,  his  best  aid  and  counsellor, 
until  time  had  turned  her  back  in  its  tide,  and  made 
her  a  child  again. 

My  husband  followed  him  from  the  room  to  bestow 
the  sympathy  and  encouragement  which  a  strong  man 
can  give  to  a  desponding  one. 

When  the  carriage  was  announced,  which  would  take 
us  to  Benicia  in  time  to  catch  the  Sacramento  steamer 
to  San  Francisco,  I  tied  on  grandma's  bonnet,  pinned 
her  shawl  around  her  shoulders,  and  told  her  that  we 
would  take  her  home  before  proceeding  on  our  way, 
but  she  crossed  her  hands  in  front  and  artlessly 
whispered : 

^'  No;  I  'd  like  to  stay  in  town  a  while  to  talk  with 
friends;  but  I  thank  you  just  the  same,  and  shall  not 
forget  that  I  am  to  go  to  you,  after  you  be  settled 
in  the  new  home,  and  his  little  daughter  has  learned 
to  call  you  '  mother.'  " 

We  left  her  standing  on  the  hotel  piazza,  smiling 
and  important  among  the  friends  who  had  waited  to 
see  us  off;  but  grandpa  was  nowhere  in  sight. 

The  steamer  was  at  the  landing  when  we  reached 
Benicia  so  we  hurriedly  embarked  and  found  seats 
upon  the  deck  overlooking  the  town.  As  the  moon- 
light glistened  on  the  white  spray  wliich  encircled  our 
departing  boat,  the  sound  of  the  Angelus  came  softly, 

[331] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

sweetly,  prayerfully  over  the  water ;  and  I  looking  up 
and  beyond,  saw  the  glimmering  lights  of  Saint  Cath- 
erine 's  Convent,  fitting  close  to  scenes  of  ray  childhood, 
its  silver-toned  bells  cheering  my  way  to  long  life,  hon- 
ors, and  many  blessings ! 


[332 


APPENDIX 


Though  the  mills  of  God  grind  slowly,  yet  they  grind 
exceeding  small; 

Though  with  patience  He  stands  waiting,  with  exact- 
ness grinds  He  all. 

Friedrich  vox  Logau. 


I 

ARTICLES  PUBLISHED  IX  The  California  Star  —  statis- 
tics OF  THE  PARTY NOTES  OF  AGUILLA  GLOVER EX- 
TRACT    FROM      THORNTON RECOLLECTIONS     OF      JOHN 

BAPTISTE   TRUBODE. 

IN  honor  to  the  State  that  cherishes  the  landmark ; 
in  justice  to  history  which  is  entitled  to  the  truth 
in  sympathetic  fellowship  with  those  who  survived  the 
disaster;  and  in  reverent  memory  of  those  wJio  suf- 
fered and  died  in  the  snowbound  camps  of  the  Sierra 
Nevadas,  I  refute  the  charges  of  cruelty,  selfishness, 
and  inhumanity  which  have  been  ascribed  to  the 
Donner  Party. 

In  this  Appendix  I  set  forth  some  of  the  unwar- 
ranted statements  to  which  frequent  reference  has  been 
made  in  the  foregoing*  pages,  that  they  may  be  ex- 
amined and  analyzed,  and  their  utter  unreliability  dem- 
onstrated by  comparison  with  established  facts  and 
figures.  These  latter  data,  for  the  sake  of  brevity, 
are  in  somewhat  statistical  form.  A  few  further  in- 
cidents, which  I  did  not  learn  of  or  understand  until 
long  after  they  occurred,  are  also  related. 

The  accounts  of  weather  conditions,  of  scarcity  of 
food  and  fuel,  also  the  number  of  deaths  in  the  camps 
before  the  first  of  March,  1847,  are  verified  by  the  care- 

[335] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

fully  kept  *^  Diary  of  Patrick  Breen,  One  of  the  Don- 
ner  Party,''  which  has  recently  been  published  by  the 
Academy  of  Pacific  Coast  History. 

The  following  article,  which  originally  appeared  in 
The  California  Star,  April  10,  1847,  is  here  quoted 
from  * '  The  Life  and  Days  of  General  John  A.  Sutter, ' ' 
by  T.  J.  Schoonover: 

A  more  shocking  scene  cannot  be  imagined  than  was  wit- 
nessed by  the  party  of  men  who  went  to  the  relief  of  the 
unfortunate  emigrants  in  the  California  Mountains.  The 
bones  of  those  who  had  died  and  been  devoured  by  the  mis- 
erable ones  that  still  survived  were  around  their  tents  and 
cabins;  bodies  of  men,  women,  and  children  with  half  the 
flesh  torn  from  them  lay  on  everj^  side.  A  woman  sat  by  the 
side  of  the  body  of  her  dead  husband  cutting  out  his  tongue ; 
the  heart  she  had  already  taken  out,  broiled,  and  eaten.  The 
daughter  was  seen  eating  the  father;  and  the  mother,  that 
■[viz.  body]  of  her  children;  children,  that  of  father  and 
mother.  The  emaciated,  wild,  and  ghastly  appearance  of  the 
survivors  added  to  the  horror  of  it.  Language  can  not 
describe  the  awful  change  that  a  few  weeks  of  dire  suffering 
had  wrought  in  the  minds  of  the  wretched  and  pitiable  beings. 
Those  who  one  month  before  would  have  shuddered  and  sick- 
ened at  the  thought  of  eating  human  flesh,  or  of  killing  their 
companions  and  relatives  to  preserve  their  own  lives,  now 
looked  upon  the  opportunity  the  acts  afforded  them  of  escap- 
ing the  most  dreadful  of  deaths  as  providential  interference 
in  their  behalf. 

Calculations  were  coldly  made,  as  they  sat  around  their 
gloomy  camp  fires,  for  the  next  succeeding  meals.  Various 
expedients  were  devised  to  prevent  the  dreadful  crime  of 
murder,  but  they  finally  resolved  to  kill  those  who  had  least 
claims  to  longer  existence.  Just  at  this  moment  some  of 
them  died,  which  afforded  the  rest  temporary  relief.  Some 
sank  into  the  arms  of  death  cursing  God  for  their  miserable 
fate,  while  the  last  whisperings  of  others  were  prayers  and 
songs  of  praise  to  the  Almighty.  After  the  first  few  deaths, 
but  the  one  all-absorbing  thought  of  individual  self-preserva- 

r  336  1 


MEMBERS  OF  DONNER  PARTY 

tion  prevailed.  The  fountains  of  natural  affection  were  dried 
up.  The  chords  that  once  vibrated  with  connubial,  parental, 
and  filial  affection  were  torn  asunder,  and  each  one  seemed 
resolved,  without  regard  to  the  fate  of  others,  to  escape  from 
impending  calamity. 

So  changed  had  the  emigrants  become  that  when  the 
rescuing  party  arrived  with  food,  some  of  them  cast  it  aside, 
and  seemed  •  to  prefer  the  putrid  human  flesh  that  still 
remained.  The  day  before  the  party  arrived,  one  emigrant 
took  the  body  of  a  child  about  four  years  of  age  in  bed  with 
him  and  devoured  the  whole  before  morning;  and  the  next 
day  he  ate  another  about  the  same  age,  before  noon. 

This  article,  one  of  the  most  harrowing  to  be  found 
in  print,  spread  through  the  early  mining-camps,  and 
has  since  been  quoted  by  historians  and  authors  as  an 
authentic  account  of  scenes  and  conduct  witnessed  by 
the  first  relief  corps  to  Donner  Lake.  It  has  since 
furnished  style  and  suggestion  for  other  nerve-racking 
stories  on  the  subject,  causing  keener  mental  suffering 
to  those  vitally  concerned  than  words  can  tell.  Yet 
it  is  easily  proved  to  be  nothing  more  or  less  than  a 
perniciously  sensational  newspaper  production,  too 
utterly  false,  too  cruelly  misleading,  to  merit  credence. 
Evidently,  it  was  written  without  malice,  but  in  ignor- 
ance, and  by  some  warmly  clad,  well  nourished  person, 
who  did  not  know  the  humanizing  effect  of  suffering 
and  sorrow,  and  who  may  not  have  talked  with  either 
a  survivor  or  a  rescuer  of  the  Donner  Party. 

When  the  Donner  Party  ascended  the  Sierra  Nevadas 
on  the  last  day  of  October,  1846,  it  comprised  eighty- 
one  souls;  namely,  Charles  Berger,*  Patrick  Breen, 
Margaret    Breen    (his    wife),   John   Breen,    Edward 

*Diecl  while  in  the  mountain  camps. 

[  337  ] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

Breen,  Patrick  Breen,  Jr.,  Simon  Breen,  James  Breen, 
Peter  Breen,  Isabella  Breen,  Jacob  Donner,*  Eliza- 
beth Donner  *  (his  wife),  William  Hook,t  Solomon 
Hook,  George  Donner,  Jr.,  Mary  Donner,  Isaac  Don- 
ner,! Lewis  Donner,*  Samuel  Donner,*  George  Don- 
ner, Sr.,*  Tamsen  Donner  *  (his  wife),  Elitha  Donner, 
Leanna  C.  Donner,  Frances  Eustis  Donner,  Georgia 
Anna  Donner,  Eliza  Poor  Donner,  Patrick  Doland,t 
John  Denton,t  Milton  Elliot,*  William  Eddy,  Eleanor 
Eddy  (his  wife),  Margaret  Eddy,*  and  James  Eddy,* 
Jay  Fosdick  t  and  Sarah  Fosdick  (his  wife),  William 
Foster,  Sarah  Foster  (his  wife)  and  George  Foster,* 
Franklin  W.  Graves,  Sr.,+  Elisabeth  Graves  t  (bis 
wife),  Mary  Graves,  William  C.  Graves,  Eleanor 
Graves,  Lovina  Graves,  Nancy  Graves,  Jonathan  B. 
Graves,  Franklin  W.  Graves,  Jr.,t  and  Elizabeth 
Graves,  Jr.,  Noah  James,  Lewis  S.  Keseberg,  Philip- 
pine Keseberg  (his  wife),  Ada  Keseberg  f  and  Lewis  S. 
Keseberg,  Jr.,*  Mrs.  Lovina  Murphy  *  (a  widow),  John 
Landrum  Murphy,*  Lemuel  Murphy,t  Mary  Murphy, 
William  G.  Murphy  and  Simon  Murphy,  Mrs.  Aman- 
da McCutchen  and  Harriet  McCutchen,*  Mrs.  Harriet 
Pike  (widow),  Nioma  Pike  and  Catherine  Pike,*  Mrs. 
Margaret  Reed,  Virginia  Reed,  Martha  J.  Reed,  James 
F.  Reed,  Jr.,  and  Thomas  K.  Reed,  Joseph  Rhinehart,* 
Charles  Stanton,!  John  Baptiste  Trubode,  August 
Spitzer,*  James  Smith,*  Samuel  Shoemaker,  Bailis 
Williams  *  and  Eliza  Williams  (his  sister),  Mrs.  Wool- 

*Diecl  while  in  the  mountain  camps. 

tDied  en  route  over  the  mountains  to  the  settlements  in  California. 

[3381 


STATISTICS  OF  DONNER  PARTY 

finger  (widow),  Antonio  (a  Mexican)  and  Lewis  and 
Salvador  (the  two  Indians  sent  with  Stanton  by  Gen- 
eral Sutter). 

Stated  in  brief,  the  result  of  the  disaster  to  the  party 
in  the  mountains  was  as  follows : 

The  total  number  of  deaths  was  thirty-six,  as  fol- 
lows :  fourteen  in  the  mountains  while  en  route  to  the 
settlement;  fourteen  at  camp  near  Donner  Lake;  and 
eight  at  Donner 's  Camp.    . 

The  total  number  who  reached  the  settlement  was 
forty-five ;  of  whom  five  were  men,  eight  were  women, 
and  thirty-two  were  children. 

The  family  of  James  F.  Reed  and  that  of  Patrick 
Breen  survived  in  unbroken  numbers.  The  only  other 
family  in  which  all  the  children  reached  the  settlement 
was  that  of  Captain  George  Donner. 

Fourteen  of  the  eighty-one  souls  constituting  the 
Donner  Party  were  boys  and  girls  between  the  ages 
of  nineteen  and  twelve  years ;  twenty-six  ranged  from 
twelve  years  to  a  year  and  a  half;  and  seven  were 
nursing  babes.  There  were  only  thirty-four  adults,  — 
twenty-two  men  and  twelve  women. 

Of  the  first-named  group,  eleven  survived  the  dis- 
aster. One  youth  died  en  route  with  the  Forlorn 
Hope ;  one  at  the  Lake  Camp ;  and  one  at  Bear  Valley 
in  charge  of  the  First  Relief. 

Twenty  of  the  second-named  group  also  reached  the 
settlements.  One  died  en  route  with  the  First  Relief; 
two   at   Donner's    Camp    (in   March,   1847);    two   at 


339] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

Starved  Camp,  in  charge  of  the  Second  Relief;  and 
one  at  the  Lake  Camp  (in  March). 

Two  of  the  seven  babes  lived,  and  five  perished  at 
the  Lake  Camp.  They  hungered  and  slowly  perished 
after  famine  had  dried  the  natural  flow,  and  infant 
lips  had  drawn  blood  from  maternal  breasts. 

The  first  nursling's  life  to  ebb  was  that  of  Lewis 
Keseberg,  Jr.,  on  January  24,  1847.*  His  grief - 
stricken  mother  could  not  be  comforted.  She  hugged 
his  wasted  form  to  her  heart  and  carried  it  far  from 
camp,  where  she  dug  a  grave  and  buried  it  in  the  snow. 

Harriet  McCutchen,  whose  mother  had  struggled 
on  with  the  Forlorn  Hope  in  search  of  succor,  breathed 
her  last  on  the  second  of  February,  while  lying  upon 
the  lap  of  Mrs.  Graves ;  and  the  snow  being  deep  and 
hard  frozen,  Mrs.  Graves  bade  her  son  William  make 
the  necessary  excavation  near  the  wall  within  their 
cabin,  and  they  buried  the  body  there,  where  the 
mother  should  find  it  upon  her  return.  Catherine  Pike 
died  in  the  Murphy  cabin  a  few  hours  before  the  ar- 
rival of  food  from  the  settlement  and  was  buried  on 
the  morning  of  February  22. f 

Those  were  the  only  babes  that  perished  before  re- 
lief came.  Does  not  the  fact  that  so  many  young  chil- 
dren survived  the  disaster  refute  the  charges  of  paren- 
tal selfishness  and  inhumanity,  and  emphasize  the  im- 
measurable self-sacrifice,  love,  and  care  that  kept  so 

*Eeport  brought  by  John  Baptiste  to  DonKer's  Camp,  after  one  of 
his  trips  to  the  lake. 

t Incident  related  by  William  C.  Graves,  after  he  reached  the  settle- 
ment. 

[3401 


ADLER  CREEK 


THE  FIRST  RELIEF  PARTY 

many  of  the  little  ones  alive  through  that  long,  bitter 
siege  of  starvation? 

Mrs.  Elinor  Eddy,  who  passed  away  in  the  Murphy 
cabin  on  the  seventh  of  February,  was  the  only  wife 
and  mother  called  by  death,  in  either  camp,  before  the 
arrival  of  the  First  Relief.  Both  Patrick  Breen's 
diary  and  William  G.  Murphy,  then  a  lad  of  eleven 
years,  assert  that  Mrs.  Eddy  and  little  Margaret,  her 
only  daughter,  were  buried  in  the  snow  near  the  Mur- 
phy cabin  on  the  ninth  of  February.  Furthermore,  tlie 
Breen  Diary  and  the  death-list  of  the  Donner  Party 
show  that  not  a  husband  or  father  died  at  the  Lake 
Camp  during  the  entire  period  of  the  party's  impris- 
onment in  the  mountains.* 

How,  then,  could  that  First  Relief,  or  either  of  the 
other  relief  parties  see  —  how  could  they  even  have 
imagined  that  they  saw  —  ^^  wife  sitting  at  the  side  of 
her  husband  who  had  just  died,  mutilating  his  body,'' 
or  ^^  the  daughter  eating  her  father,"  or  ^^  mother 
that  of  her  children,"  or  ''  children  that  of  father  and 
mother  "!  The  same  questions  might  be  asked  re- 
garding the  other  revolting  scenes  pictured  by  tlie 
Star, 

The  seven  men  who  first  braved  the  dangers  of  tlie 
icy  trail  in  the  work  of  rescue  came  over  a  trackless, 
rugged  waste  of  snow,  varying  from  ten  to  forty 
feet  in  depth,!  and  approached  the  camp-site  near  the 

*Franklin  W.  Graves  and  Jay  Fosdick  perished  in  December,  1846, 
while  en  route  to  the  settlement  with  the  Forlorn  Hope. 

tOne  of  the  stumps  near  the  Breen-Graves  cabin,  cut  for  fuel  while 
the  snow  was  deepest,  was  found  by  actual  measurement  to  be  twenty- 
two  feet  in  height.     It  is  still  standing. 

[341] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

lake  at  sunset.  They  halloed,  and  up  the  snow  steps 
came  those  able  to  drag  themselves  to  the  surface. 
When  they  descended  into  those  cabins,  they  found  no 
cheering  lights.  Through  the  smoky  atmosphere,  they 
saw  smouldering  fires,  and  faced  conditions  so  ap- 
Ijalling  that  words  forsook  them ;  their  very  souls  were 
racked  with  agonizing  sympathy.  There  were  the 
famine- stricken  and  the  perishing,  almost  as  wasted 
and  helpless  as  those  whose  sufferings  had  ceased. 
Too  weak  to  show  rejoicing,  they  could  only  beg  with 
quivering  lips  and  trembling  hands,  *^  Oh,  give  us 
something  to  eat!  Give  us  something  to  drink!  We 
are  starving!  '' 

True,  their  hands  were  grimy,  their  clothing  tat- 
tered, and  the  floors  were  bestrewn  with  hair  from 
hides  and  bits  of  broken  bullock  bones;  but  of  connu- 
bial, parental,  or  filial  inhumanity,  there  were  no  signs. 

With  what  deep  emotion  those  seven  heroic  men  con- 
templated the  conditions  in  camp  may  be  gathered 
from  Mr.  Aguilla  Glover's  own  notes,  published  in 
Thornton's  work: 

Feb.  19,  1847.  The  unhappy  survivors  were,  in  short,  in 
a  condition  most  deplorable,  and  beyond  power  of  language 
to  describe,  or  imagination  to  conceive. 

The  emigrants  had  not  yet  commenced  eating  the  dead. 
Many  of  the  sufferers  had  been  living  on  bullock  hides  for 
Aveeks  and  even  that  sort  of  food  was  so  nearly  exhausted 
that  they  were  about  to  dig  up  from  the  snow  the  bodies  of 
their  companions  for  the  purpose  of  prolonging  their 
wretched  lives. 

Thornton's  work  contains  the  following  statement 

by  a  member  of  one  of  the  relief  corps: 

[342] 


JOHN  BAPTISTS  TRUBODE'S  STORY 

On  the  morning  of  February  20,*  Racine  Tucker,  John 
Rhodes,  and  Riley  Moutrey  went  to  the  camp  of  George 
Donner  eight  miles  distant,  taking  a  little  jerked  beef.  These 
sufferers  (eighteen)  had  but  one  hide  remaining.  They  had 
determined  that  upon  consuming  this  they  would  dig  from 
the  snow  the  bodies  of  those  who  had  died  from  starvation. 
Mr.  Donner  was  helpless,  Mrs.  Donner  was  weak  but  in  good 
health,  and  might  have  come  to  the  settlement  with  this 
party;  yet  she  solemnly  but  calmly  determined  to  remain 
with  her  husband  and  perform  for  him  the  last  sad  offices  of 
affection  and  humanity.  And  this  she  did  in  full  view  that 
she  must  necessarily  perish  by  remaining  behind.  The  three 
men  returned  the  same  day  with  sevfen  refugeesf  from  Donner 
Camp. 

John  Baptiste  Trubode  has  distinct  recollections  of 
the  arrival  and  departure  of  Tucker's  party,  and  of 
the  amount  of  food  left  by  it. 

He  said  to  me  in  that  connection : 

^*  To  each  of  us  who  had  to  stay  in  camp,  one  of  the 
First  Relief  Party  measured  a  teacupful  of  flour,  two 
small  biscuits,  and  thin  pieces  of  jerked  beef,  each 
piece  as  long  as  his  first  finger,  and  as  many  pieces  as 
he  could  encircle  with  that  first  finger  and  thumb 
brought  together,  end  to  end.  This  was  all  that  could 
be  spared,  and  was  to  last  until  the  next  party  could 
reach  us. 

'*  Our  outlook  was  dreary  and  often  hopeless.  I 
don't  know  what  I  would  have  done  sometimes  with- 
out the  comforting  talks  and  prayers  of  those  two 
women,  your  mother  and  Aunt  Elizabeth.    Then  even- 

*Thorntoii's  dates  are  one  day  later  than  those  in  the  Breen  Diary. 
Breen  must  have  lost  a  day  en  route. 

fThe  First  Relief  Corps  took  six,  instead  of  seven,  refugees  from 
Donner  Camp,  and  set  out  from  the  lake  cabins  with  twenty-three,  in- 
stead of  twenty-four,  refugees. 

[343] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

ings  after  you  children  went  to  sleep,  Mrs.  George 
Donner  wonld  read  to  me  from  the  book*  she  wrote 
in  every  day.  If  that  book  had  been  saved,  every  one 
would  know  the  truth  of  what  went  on  in  camp,  and  not 
spread  these  false  tales. 

**  I  dug  in  the  snow  for  the  dead  cattle,  but  found 
none,  and  we  had  to  go  back  to  our  saltless  old  bullock 
hide,  days  before  the  Second  Relief  got  to  us,  on  the 
first  of  March. ' ' 

*The  journal,  herbarium,  manuscript,  and  drawings  of  Mrs.  George 
Donner  were  not  among  the  goods  delivered  at  the  Fort  by  the  Fallon 
Party,  and  no  trace  of  them  was  ever  found. 


f344] 


II 

THE    REED-GKEEXWOOD    PARTY,    OR    SECOND    RELIEF REM- 
INISCENCES     OF      WILLIAM      G.      MURPHY CONCERNING 

NICHOLAS  CLARK  AND  JOHN  BAPTISTE. 

ON  the  third  of  March,  1847,  the  Reed-Greenwood, 
or  Second  Relief  Corps  (excepting  Nicholas 
Clark)  left  camp  with  the  following  refugees:  Patrick 
Breen,  Margaret  Breen  (his  wife),  Patrick  Breen,  Jr., 
Simon  Breen,  James  Breen,  Peter  Breen,  Isabella 
Breen,  Solomon  Hook,  Mary  Donner,  Isaac  Donner, 
Mrs.  Elizabeth  Graves,  Nancy  Graves,  Jonathan  B. 
Graves,  Franklin  W.  Graves,  Jr.,  Elizabeth  Graves,  Jr., 
Martha  J.  Reed,  and  Thomas  K.  Reed.  The  whole 
party,  as  has  been  already  told,  were  forced  into  camp 
about  ten  miles  below  the  summit  on  the  west  side  of 
the  Sierras,  by  one  of  the  fiercest  snow-storms  of  the 
season. 

All  credit  is  due  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Breen  for  keeping 
the  nine  helpless  waifs  left  with  them  at  Starved 
Camp  alive  until  food  was  brought  them  by  members 
of  the  Third  Relief  Party.  Mr.  Breen  *s  much  prized 
diary  does  not  cover  the  experiences  of  that  little  band 
in  their  struggle  across  the  mountains,  but  concludes 
two  days  before  they  started.  After  he  and  his  family 
succeeded  in  reaching  tlie  Sacramento  Valley,  he  gave 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  CONNER  PARTY 

his  diary  (kept  at  Donner  Lake)  to  Colonel  George 
McKinstry  for  the  purpose  of  assisting  him  in  making- 
out  his  report  to  Captain  Hall,  U.  S.  N.,  Sloop  of 
War  Warren,  Commander  Northern  District  of  Cal- 
ifornia. 

James  F.  Reed  of  the  Reed-Greenwood  Party,  the 
second  to  reach  the  emigrants,  has  been  adversely 
criticised  from  time  to  time,  because  he  and  six  of  his 
men  returned  to  Sutter's  Fort  in  March  with  no  more 
than  his  own  two  children  and  Solomon  Hook,  a  lad 
of  twelve  years,  who  had  said  that  he  could  and  would 
walk,  and  did. 

Careful  investigation,  however,  proves  the  criticism 
hasty  and  unfair.  True,  Mr.  Reed  went  over  the  moun- 
tains with  the  largest  and  best  equipped  party  sent 
out,  ten  well  furnished,  able-bodied  men.  But  return- 
ing he  left  one  man  at  camp  to  assist  the  needy 
emigrants. 

The  seventeen  refugees  whom  he  and  nine  compan- 
ions brought  over  the  summit  comprised  three  weak, 
wasted  adults,  and  fourteen  emaciated  young  children. 
The  prospect  of  getting  them  all  to  the  settlement, 
even  under  favorable  circumstances,  had  seemed 
doubtful  at  the  beginning  of  the  journey.  Alas,  one 
of  the  heaviest  snow-storms  of  the  season  overtook 
them  on  the  bleak  mountain-side  ten  miles  from  the 
tops  of  the  Sierra  Nevadas.  It  continued  many  days. 
Food  gave  out,  death  took  toll.  The  combined  efforts 
of  the  men  could  not  do  more  than  provide  fuel  and 
keep  the  fires.    All  became  exhausted.    Rescuers  and 

[3461 


SKETCH  OF  MRS.  MURPHY 

refugees  might  have  perished  there  together  had  the 
nine  men  not  followed  what  seemed  their  only  alterna- 
tive. Who  would  not  have  done  what  Reed  did  ?  With 
almost  superhuman  effort,  he  saved  his  two  children. 
No  one  felt  keener  regret  than  he  over  the  fact  that  he 
had  been  obliged  to  abandon  at  Starved  Camp  the 
eleven  refugees  he  had  heroically  endeavored  to  save. 
In  those  days  of  affliction,  it  were  well  nigh  impossi- 
ble to  say  who  was  most  afflicted ;  still,  it  would  seem 
that  no  greater  destitution  and  sorrow  could  have  been 
meted  to  any  one  than  fell  to  the  lot  of  Mrs.  Murphy  at 
the  lake  camp.  The  following  incidents  were  related 
by  her  son,  William  G.  Murphy,  in  an  address  to  a 
concourse  of  people  assembled  on  the  shore  of  Donner 
Lake  in  February,  1896: 

I  was  a  little  more  than  eleven  years  of  age  when  we  all 
reached  these  mountains,  and  that  one-roomed  shanty  .  was 
built,  where  so  many  of  us  lived,  ate,  and  slept.  No !  —  Where 
so  many  of  us  slept,  starved,  and  died!  It  was  constructed 
for  my  mother  and  seven  children  (two  being  married)  and 
her  three  grandchildren,  and  William  Foster,  husband'  of 
her  daughter  Sarah. 

Early  in  December  when  the  Forlorn  Hope  was  planned, 
we  were  almost  out  of  provisions;  and  my  mother  took  the 
babes  from  the  arms  of  Sarah  and  Harriet  (Mrs.  Pike)  and 
told  them  that  she  would  care  for  their  little  ones,  and  they 
being  young  might  with  William  (Foster)  and  their  brother 
Lemuel  reach  the  settlement  and  return  with  food.  Aiid  the 
four  became  members  of  that  hapless  band  of  fifteen. 

Mr.  Eddy  being  its  leader,  his  wife  and  her  two  chil- 
dren came  to  live  with  us  during  his  absence.  When  my 
eldest  brother,  on  whom  my  mother  depended,  was  very  weak 
and  almost  at  death  *s  door,  my  mother  went  to  the  Breeus 
and  begged  a  little  meat,  just  a  few  mouthfuls  —  T  remember 
well  that  little  piece  of  meat!    My  mother  gave  half  of  it  to 

[347] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PAETY 

my  dying  brother;  he  ate  it,  fell  asleep  with  a  hollow  death 
gurgle.  When  it  ceased  1  went  to  him  —  he  was  dead  — 
starved  to  death  in  our  presence.  Although  starving  herself, 
my  mother  said  that  if  she  had  known  that  Landrum  was 
going  to  die  she  would  have  given  him  the  balance  of  the 
meat.  Little  Margaret  Eddy  lingered  until  February  4,  and 
her  mother  until  the  seventh.  Their  bodies  lay  two  days  and 
nights  longer  in  the  room  with  us  before  we  could  find  assist- 
ance able  to  bury  them  in  the  snow.  Some  days  earlier  Mil- 
ton Elliot,  weak  and  wandering  around,  had  taken  up  his 
abode  with  us.  We  shared  with  him  the  remnant  of  our  beef 
hides.  We  had  had  a  lot  of  that  glue-making  material.  But 
mark,  it  would  not  sustain  life.  Elliot  soon  starved  to  death, 
and  neighbors  removed  and  interred  the  body  in  the  snow 
beside  others. 

Catherine  Pike,  my  absent  sister's  baby,  died  on  the 
eighteenth  of  February,  only  a  few  hours  before  the  arrival 
of  the  First  Relief.  Thus  the  inmates  of  our  shanty  had  been 
reduced  to  my  mother,  my  sister  Mary,  brother  Simon,  Nioma 
Pike,  Georgie  Foster,  myself,  and  little  Jimmy  Eddy. 

When  the  rescuers  decided  they  would  carry  out  Nioma 
Pike,  and  that  my  sister  Mary  and  I  should  follow,  stepping 
in  the  tracks  made  by  those  who  had  snowshoes,  strength 
seemed  to  come,  so  that  I  was  able  to  cut  and  carry  to  my 
mother's  shanty  what  appeared  to  me  a  huge  pile  of  wood. 
It  was  green,  but  it  was  all  I  could  get. 

We  left  mother  there  with  three  helpless  little  ones  to 
feed  on  almost  nothing,  yet  in  the  hope  that  she  might  keep 
them  alive  until  the  arrival  of  the  next  relief. 

Many  of  the  survivors  remember  that  after  having 
again  eaten  food  seasoned  with  salt,  the  boiled,  salt- 
less  hides  produced  nausea  and  could  not  be  retained 
by  adult  or  child. 

I  say  with  deep  reverence  that  flesh  of  the  dead  was 
used  to  sustain  the  living  in  more  than  one  cabin  near 
the  lake.  But  it  was  not  used  until  after  the  pittance 
of  food  left  by  the  First  Relief  had  long  been  con- 

[3481 


SECOND  AND  THIRD  RELIEF  PARTIES 

sumed;  not  until  after  the  wolves  had  dug  the  snow 
from  the  graves.  Perhaps  God  sent  the  wolves  to  show 
Mrs.  Murphy  and  also  Mrs.  Graves  where  to  get  sus- 
tenance for  their  dependent  little  ones. 

Both  were  widows ;  the  one  had  three,  and  the  other 
four  helpless  children  to  save.  Was  it  culpable, 
or  cannibalistic  to  seek  and  use  the  only  life-saving 
means  left  them  1  Were  the  acts  and  purposes  of  their 
unsteady  hands  and  aching  hearts  less  tender,  less  hu- 
mane than  those  of  the  lauded  surgeons  of  to-day,  who 
infuse  hum^n  blood  from  living  bodies  into  the  arteries 
of  those  whom  naught  else  can  save,  or  who  strip  skin 
from  bodies  that  feel  pain,  to  cover  wounds  which 
would  otherwise  prove  fatal? 

John  Baptiste  Trubode  and  Nicholas  Clark,  of  the 
Second  Relief,  were  the  last  men  who  saw  my  father 
alive.  In  August,  1883,  the  latter  came  to  my  home  in 
San  Jose. 

This  was  our  second  meeting  since  that  memor- 
able morning  of  March  2,  1847,  when  he  went  in  pur- 
suit of  the  wounded  mother  bear,  and  was  left  behind 
by  the  relief  party.  We  spoke  long  and  earnestly  of 
our  experience  in  the  mountains,  and  he  wished  me  to 
deny  the  statement  frequently  made  that,  **  Clark  car- 
ried a  pack  of  plunder  and  a  heavy  shotgun  from 
Donner's  Camp  and  left  a  child  there  to  die.''  This  I 
can  do  positively,  for  when  the  Third  Relief  Party 
took  Simon  Murphy  and  us  **  three  little  Donner 
girls''  from  the  mountain  camp,  not  a  living  being 
remained,  except  Mrs.  Murphy  and  Keseberg  at  the 

[349] 


the!  expedition  of  the  donnee  party 

lake  camp,  and  my  father  and  mother  at  Donner's 
Camp.    All  were  helpless  except  my  mother. 

The  Spring  following  my  interview  with  Nicholas 
Clark,  John  Baptiste  came  to  San  Jose,  and  Mr.  Mc- 
Cutchen  brought  him  to  talk  with  me.  John,  always  a 
picturesque  character,  had  become  a  hop  picker  in  hop 
season,  and  a  fisherman  the  rest  of  the  year.  He  could 
not  restrain  the  tears  which  coursed  down  his  bronzed 
cheeks  as  he  spoke  of  the  destitution  and  suffering  in 
the  snow-bound  camps;  of  the  young  unmarried  men 
who  had  been  so  light-hearted  on  the  plains  and  brave 
when  first  they  faced  the  snows.  His  voice  trembled 
as  he  told  how  often  they  had  tried  to  break  through 
the  great  barriers,  and  failed ;  hunted,  and  found  noth- 
ing; fished,  and  caught  nothing;  and  when  rations 
dwindled  to  strips  of  beef  hide,  their  strength  waned, 
and  death  found  them  ready  victims.    He  declared, 

The  hair  and  bones  found  around  the  Donner  fires  were 
those  of  cattle.  No  human  flesh  was  used  by  either  Donner 
family.  This  I  know,  for  I  was  there  all  winter  and  helped 
get  all  the  wood  and  food  we  had,  after  starvation  threatened 
us.  I  was  about  sixteen  years  old  at  the  time.  Our  four  men 
died  early  in  December  and  were  buried  in  excavations  in 
the  side  of  the  mountain.  Their  bodies  were  never  disturbed. 
As  the  snows  deepened  to  ten  and  twelve  feet,  we  lost  track 
of  their  location. 

When  saying  good-bye,  he  looked  at  me  wistfully 

and  exclaimed:  *^  Oh,  little  Eliza,  sister  mine,  how  I 

suffered  and  worked  to  help  keep  you  alive.    Do  you 

think  there  was  ever  colder,  stronger  winds  than  them 

that  whistled   and  howled   around  our  camp   in   the 

Sierras!  '' 

[  350  1 


MISFORTUNES  IN  THE  MOUNTAINS 

He  returned  the  next  day,  and  in  his  quaint,  earnest 
way  expressed  keenest  regret  that  he  and  Clark  had 
not  remained  longer  in  camp  with  my  father  and 
mother. 

''  I  did  not  feel  it  so  much  at  first;  but  after  I  got 
married  and  had  children  of  my  own,  I  often  fished 
and  cried,  as  I  thought  of  what  I  done,  for  if  we  two 
men  had  stayed,  perhaps  we  might  have  saved  that 
little  woman." 

His  careworn  features  lightened  as  I  bade  him  grieve 
no  more,  for  I  realized  that  he  was  but  a  boy,  over- 
burdened with  a  man's  responsibilities,  and  had  done 
his  best,  and  that  nobly.  Then  I  added  what  I  have 
always  believed,  that  no  one  was  to  blame  for  the  mis- 
fortunes which  overtook  us  in  the  mountains.  The 
dangers  and  difficulties  encountered  by  reason  of  tak- 
ing the  Hastings  Cut-off  had  all  been  surmounted  — 
two  weeks  more  and  we  should  have  reached  our  des- 
tination in  safety.  Then  came  the  snow!  Who  could 
foresee  that  it  would  come  earlier,  fall  deeper,  and 
linger  longer,  that  season  than  for  thirty  years  before? 
Everything  that  a  party  could  do  to  save  itself  was 
done  by  the  Donner  Party;  and  certainly  everything 
that  a  generous,  sympathizing  people  could  do  to  save 
the  snow-bound  was  done  by  the  people  of  California. 


[351] 


Ill 

THE    REPORT    OF    THOMAS    FALLON  DEDUCTIONS STATE- 
MENT  OF   EDWIN   BRYANT PECULIAR   CIRCUMSTANCES. 

THE  following  is  the  report  of  Thomas  Fallon, 
leader  of  the  fourth  party    to  the  camps  near 
Donner  Lake: 

Left  Johnson's  on  the  evening  of  April  13,  and  arrived  at 
the  lower  end  of  Bear  Eiver  Valley  on  the  fifteenth.  Hung 
our  saddles  upon  trees,  and  sent  the  horses  back,  to  be 
returned  again  in  ten  days  to  bring  us  in  again.  Started  on 
foot,  with  provisions  for  ten  days  and  travelled  to  head  of 
the  valley,  and  camped  for  the  night ;  snow  from  two  to  three, 
feet  deep.  Started  early  in  the  morning  of  April  15  and 
travelled  twenty-three  miles.     Snow  ten  feet  deep. 

April  17.  Reached  the  <^abins  between  twelve  and  one 
o'clock.  Expected  to  find  some  of  the  sufferers  alive.  Mrs. 
Donner  and  Keseberg*  in  particular.  Entered  the  cabins, 
and  a  horrible  scene  presented  itself.  Human  bodies  terribly 
mutilated,  legs,  arms,  and  skulls  scattered  in  every  direction. 
One  body  supposed  to  be  that  of  Mrs.  Eddy  lay  near  the 
entrance,  the  limbs  severed  off,  and  a  frightful  gash  in  the 
skull.  The  flesh  was  nearly  consumed  from  the  bones,  and  a 
painful  stillness  pervaded  the  place.  The  supposition  was, 
that  all  were  dead,  when  a  sudden  shout  revived  our  hopes, 
and  we  flew  in  the  direction  of  the  sound.  Three  Indians 
who  had  been  hitherto  concealed,  started  from  the  ground, 
fled  at  our  approach,  leaving  behind  their  bows  and  arrows. 
We  delayed  two  hours  in  searching  the  cabins,  during  which 
we  were  obliged  to  witness  sights  from  which  we  would  have 
fain   turned   away,   and  which   are  too  dreadful  to  put  on 

*  Should  be  spelled  Keseberg. 

[352] 


REPORT  OF  THOMAS  FALLON 

record.  "We  next  started  for  Donner's  camp,  eight  miles  dis- 
tant over  the  mountains.  After  travelling  about  halfway,  we 
came  upon  a  track  in  the  snow  which  excited  our  suspicion, 
and  we  determined  to  pursue.  It  brought  us  to  the  camp 
of  Jacob  Donner,  where  it  had  evidently  left  that  morn- 
ing. There  we  found  property  of  every  description,  books, 
calicoes,  tea,  coffee,  shoes,  percussion  caps,  household  and 
kitchen  furniture,  scattered  in  every  direction,  and  mostly  in 
water.  At  the  mouth  of  the  tent  stood  a  large  iron  kettle, 
filled  with  human  flesh  cut  up.  It  was  from  the  body  of 
George  Donner.  The  head  had  been  split  open,  and  the  brain 
extracted  therefrom;  and  to  the  appearance  he  had  not  been 
long  dead  —  not  over  three  or  four  days,  at  most.  Near-by 
the  kettle  stood  a  chair,  and  thereupon  three  legs  of  a  bullock 
that  had  been  shot  down  in  the  early  part  of  winter,  and 
snowed  upon  before  it  could  be  dressed.  The  meat  was  found 
sound  and  good,  and  with  the  exception  of  a  small  piece  out 
of  the  shoulder,  whole,  untouched.  We  gathered  up  some 
property,  and  camped  for  the  night. 

April  18.  Commenced  gathering  the  most  valuable  prop- 
erty, suitable  for  our  packs;  tte  greater  portion  had  to  be 
dried.  We  then  made  them  up,  and  camped  for  the 
night. 

April  19.  This  morning  Foster,  Rhodes,  and  J.  Foster 
started,  with  small  packs,  for  the  first  cabins,  intending  from 
thence  to  follow  the  trail  of  the  person  that  had  left  the 
morning  previous.  The  other  three  remained  behind  to  cache 
and  secure  the  goods  necessarily  left  there.  Knowing  the 
Donners  had  a  considerable  sum  of  money  we  searched  dili- 
gently but  were  unsuccessful.  The  party  for  the  cabins  were 
unable  to  keep  the  trail  of  the  mysterious  personage,  owing 
to  the  rapid  melting  of  the  snow ;  they  therefore  went  directly 
to  the  cabins  and  upon  entering  discovered  Keseberg  lying 
down  amid  the  human  bones,  and  beside  him  a  large  pan  full 
of  fresh  liver  and  lights.  They  asked  him  what  had  become 
of  his  companions ;  whether  they  were  alive,  and  what  had  lie- 
come  of  Mrs.  Donner.  He  answered  them  by  stating  that  they 
were  all  dead.  Mrs.  Donner,  he  said,  had,  in  attempting  to 
cross  from  one  cabin  to  another,  missed  the  trail  and  slept 
out  one  night ;  that  she  came  to  his  camp  the  next  night  very 
much  fatigued.     He  made  her  a  cup  of  coffee,  placed  her  in 

[  353  ] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

bed,  and  rolled  her  well  in  the  blankets;  but  next  morning 
she  was  dead.  He  ate  her  body  and  found  her  flesh  the  best 
he  had  ever  tasted.  He  further  stated  that  he  obtained  from 
her  body  at  least  four  pounds  of  fat.  No  trace  of  her  body 
was  found,  nor  of  the  body  of  Mrs.  Murphy  either.  When 
the  last  company  left  the  camp,  three  weeks  previous,  Mrs. 
Donner  was  in  perfect  health,  though  unwilling  to  leave  her 
husband  there,  and  offered  $500.00  to  any  person  or  persons 
who  would  come  out  and  bring  them  in,  saying  this  in  the 
presence  of  Keseberg,  and  that  she  had  plenty  of  tea  and 
coffee.  We  suspected  that  it  was  she  who  had  taken  the  piece 
from  the  shoulder  of  beef  on  the  chair  before  mentioned.  In 
the  cabin  with  Keseberg  were  found  two  kettles  of  human 
blood,  in  all,  supposed  to  be  over  two  gallons.  Rhodes  asked 
him  where  he  had  got  the  blood.  He  answered,  "  There  is 
blood  in  dead  bodies. ' '  They  asked  him  numerous  questions, 
but  he  appeared  embarrassed,  and  equivocated  a  great  deal; 
and  in  reply  to  their  asking  him  where  Mrs.  Donner 's  money 
was,  he  evinced  confusion,  and  answered  that  he  knew 
nothing  about  it,  that  she  must  have  cached  it  before  she 
died.  ''  I  haven't  it,"  said  he,  ''  nor  money  nor  property  of 
any  person,  living  or  dead. ' '  They  then  examined  his  bundle, 
and  found  silks  and  jewellery,  which  had  been  taken  from  the 
camp  of  Donners,  amounting  in  value  to  about  $200.00.  On 
his  person  they  discovered  a  brace  of  pistols  recognized  to  be 
those  of  George  Donner;  and  while  taking  them  from  him, 
discovered  someHiing  concealed  in  his  waistcoat,  which  on 
being  opened  was  found  to  be  $225.00  in  gold. 

Before  leaving  the  settlement,  the  wife  of  Keseberg  had 
told  us  that  we  would  find  but  little  mone}^  about  him;  the 
men  therefore  said  to  him  that  they  knew  he  was  lying  to 
them,  and  that  he  was  well  aware  of  the  place  of  concealment 
of  the  Donners'  money.  He  declared  before  Heaven  he 
knew  nothing  concerning  it,  and  that  he  had  not  the  prop- 
erty of  any  one  in  his  possession.  They  told  him-  that  to  lie 
to  them  would  effect  nothing;  that  there  were  others  back, 
at  the  cabins  who  unless  informed  of  the  spot  where  the 
treasure  was  hidden  would  not  hesitate  to  hang  him  upon  the 
first  tree.  Their  threats  were  of  no  avail.  He  still  affirmed 
his  ignorance  and  innocence.  Rhodes  took  him  aside  and 
talked  to  him  kindly,  telling  him  that  if  he  would  give  the 

[3541 


BEPORT  OF  THOMAS  FALLON 

information  desired,  he  should  receive  from  their  hands  the 
best  of  treatment,  and  be  in  every  way  assisted;  otherwise, 
the  party  back  at  Donner's  Camp  would,  upon  arrival,  and 
his  refusal  to  discover  to  them  the  place  where  he  had  depos- 
ited this  money,  immediately  put  him  to  death.  It  was  all 
to  no  purpose,  however,  and  they  prepared  to  return  to  us, 
leaving  him  in  charge  of  the  packs,  and  assuring  him  of  their 
determination  to  visit  him  in  the  morning ;  and  that  he  must 
make  up  his  mind  during  the  night.  They  started  back  and 
joined  us  at  Donner's  Camp. 

April  20.  We  all  started  for  Bear  River  Valley,  with 
packs  of  one  hundred  pounds  each;  our  provisions  being 
nearly  e^^nsumed,  we  were  obliged  to  make  haste  away.  Came 
within  a  few  hundred  yards  of  the  cabins  and  halted  to  pre- 
pare breakfast,  after  which  we  proceeded  to  the  cabin.  I 
now  asked  Keseberg  if  he  was  willing  to  disclose  to  me  where 
he  had  concealed  that  money.  He  turned  somewhat  pale  and 
again  protested  his  innocence.  I  said  to  him,  "Keseberg,  you 
know  well  where  Donner's  money  is,  and  damn  you,  you  shall 
tell  me !  I  am  not  going  to  multiply  words  with  you  or  say 
but  little  about  it.  Bring  me  that  rope !  "  He  then  arose  from 
his  hot  soup  and  human  flesh,  and  begged  me  not  to  harm 
him ;  he  had  not  the  money  nor  goods ;  the  silk  clothing  and 
money  which  were  found  upon  him  the  previous  day  and 
which  he  then  declared  belonged  to  his  wife,  he  now  said 
were  the  property  of  others  in  California.  I  told  him  I  did 
not  wish  to  hear  more  frohi  him,  unless  he  at  once  informed 
us  where  he  had  concealed  the  money  of  those  orphan  chil- 
dren ;  then  producing  the  rope  I  approached  him.  He  became 
frightened,  but  I  bent  the  rope  around  his  neck  and  as  I 
tightened  the  cord,  and  choked  him,  he  cried  out  that  he 
would  confess  alb.upon  release.  I  then  permitted  him  to 
arise.  He  still  seeu^  inclined  to  be  obstinate  and  made  much 
delay  in  talking.  Finally,  but  without  evident  reluctance,  he 
led  the  way  back  t<)  Donner's  Camp,  about  ten  miles  distant, 
accompanied  by  Rhodes  and  Tucker.  While  they  were  absent 
we  moved  all  our  packs  over  the  lower  end  of  the  lake,  and 
made  all  ready  for  a  start  when  they  should  return.  Mr. 
Foster  went  down  to  the  cabin  of  Mrs.  Murphy,  his  mother- 
in-law,  to  see  if  any  property  remained  there  worth  collect- 
ing and  securing;  he  found  the  body  of  young  Murphy  wlio 

[  355  ] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

had  been  dead  about  three  months  with  his  breast  and  skull 
cut  open,  and  the  brains,  liver,  and  lights  taken  out ;  and  this 
accounted  for  the  contents  of  the  pan  which  stood  beside 
Keseberg  when  he  was  found.  It  appeared  that  he  had  left 
at  the  other  camp  the  dead  bullock  and  horse,  and  on  visiting 
this  camp  and  finding  the  body  thawed  out,  took  therefrom 
the  brains,  liver,  and  lights. 

Tucker  and  Rhodes  came  back  the  next  morning,  bring- 
ing $273.00  that  had  been  cached  by  Keseberg,  who  after  dis- 
closing to  them  the  spot,  returned  to  the  cabin.  The  money 
had  been  hidden  directly  underneath  the  projecting  limb 
of  a  large  tree,  the  end  of  which  seemed  to  point  precisely  to 
the  treasure  buried  in  the  earth.  On  their  return  and  passing 
tlie  cabin,  they  saw  the  unfortunate  man  within  devouring 
the  remaining  brains  and  liver  left  from  his  morning  repast. 
They  hurried  him  away,  but  before  leaving,  he  gathered 
together  the  bones  and  heaped  them  all  in  a  box  he  used  for 
the  purpose,  blessed  them  and  the  cabin  and  said,  "  I  hope 
God  will  forgive  me  what  I  have  done.  I  could  not  help  it; 
and  I  hope  I  may  get  to  heaven  yet !  ' '  We  asked  Keseberg 
why  he  did  not  use  the  meat  of  the  bullock  and  horse  instead 
of  human  flesh.  He  replied  he  had  not  seen  them.  We  then 
told  him  we  knew  better,  and  asked  him  why  the  meat  on  the 
chair  had  not  been  consumed.  He  said,  "  Oh,  it  is  too  dry 
eating;  the  liver  and  lights  were  a  great  deal  better,  and 
brains  made  good  soup  !  "  We  then  moved  on  and  camped  by 
the  lake  for  the  night. 

April  21.  Started  for  Bear  River  Valley  this  morning. 
Found  the  snow  from  six  to  eight  feet  deep ;  camped  at  Yuma 
River  for  the  night.  On  the  twenty-second  travelled  down 
Yuma  about  eighteen  miles,  and  camped  at  the  head  of  Bear 
River  Valley.  On  the  twenty-fifth  moved  down  to  lower  end 
of  the  valley,  met  our  horses,  and  came  in. 

The  account  by  Fallon  regarding  the  fate  of  the  last 
of  the  Donners  in  their  mountain  camp  was  the  same 
as  that  which  Elitha  and  Leanna  had  heard  and  had 
endeavored  to  keep  from  us  .little  ones  at  Sutter's 
Fort. 

[  356  ] 


THE  FALLON  PARTY 

It  is  self-evident,  however,  that  the  author  of  those 
statements  did  not  contemplate  that  reliable  parties  * 
would  see  the  Donner  camps  before  prowling  beasts, 
or  time  and  elements,  had  destroyed  all  proof  of  his 
own  and  his  party's  wanton  falsity. 

It  is  also  plain  that  the  Fallon  Party  did  not  set  out 
expecting  to  find  any  one  alive  in  the  mountains,  other- 
wise would  it  not  have  taken  more  provisions  than  just 
enough  to  sustain  its  own  men  ten  days!  Would  it 
not  have  ordered  more  horses  to  meet  it  at  the  lower 
end  of  Bear  Valley  for  the  return  trip !  Had  it  planned 
to  find  and  succor  survivors  would  it  have  taken  it  for 
granted  that  all  had  perished,  simply  because  there 
was  no  one  in  the  lake  cabins,  and  would  it  have  de- 
layed two  precious  hours  in  searching  the  lake  camp 
for  valuables  before  proceeding  to  Bonner's  Camp! 

Had  the  desire  to  rescue -been  uppermost  in  mind, 
would  not  the  sight  of  human  foot-tracks  on  the  snow 
half  way  between  the  two  camps  have  excited  hope, 
instead  of  ^'  suspicion,"  and  prompted  some  of  the 
party  to  pursue  the  lone  wanderer- with  kindly  intent  ? 
Does  not  each  succeeding  day's  entry  in  that  journal 
disclose  the  party's  forgetfulness  of  its  declared  mis- 
sion to  the  mountains!  Can  any  palliating  excuse  be 
urged  why  those  men  did  not  share  with  Keseberg  the 
food  they  had  brought,  instead  of  permitting  him  to 
continue  that  which  famine  had  forced  upon  him,  and 
which  later  they  so  righteously  condemned? 

Is  there  a  single  strain  of  humanity,  pathos,  or  rev- 

*Geiieral  Kearney  and  escort,  accompanied  hy  Edwin  Bryant. 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

erence  in  that  diary,  save  that  reflected  from  Kese- 

berg's  last  act  before  being  hurried  away  from  that 

desolate  cabin!    Or  could  there  be  a  falser,  crueler,  or 

more  heartless  account  brought  to  bereaved  children 

than  Fallon's  purported  description  of  the  father's 

body  found  in  Donner's  Camp! 

Here  is  the  statement  of  Edwin  Bryant,  who  with 

General  Kearney  and  escort,  en  route  to  the  United 

States,  halted  at  the  deserted  cabins  on  June  22,  1847, 

and  wrote: 

Th'e  body  of  (Captain)  George  Donner  was  found  in  his 
own  camp  about  eight  miles  distant.  He  had  been  care- 
fully laid  out  by  his  wife,  and  a  sheet  was  wrapped  around 
the  corpse.  This  sad  office  was  probably  the  last  act  she  per- 
formed before  visiting  the  camp  of  Keseberg.* 

After  considering  what  had  been  published  by  The 
California  Star,  by  Bryant,  Thornton,  Mrs.  Farnham, 
and  others,  I  could  not  but  realize  Keseberg's  pecu- 
liarly helpless  situation.  Without  a  chance  to  speak 
in  his  own  defence,  he  had  been  charged,  tried,  and  ad- 
judged guilty  by  his  accusers;  and  an  excited  people 
had  accepted  the  verdict  without  question.  Later,  at 
Captain  Sutter's  suggestion,  Keseberg  brought  action 
for  slander  against  Captain  Fallon  and  party.  The 
case  was  tried  before  Alcalde  Sinclair,t  and  the  jury 
gave  Keseberg  a  verdict  of  one  dollar  damages.  This 
verdict,  however,  was  not  given  wide  circulation,  and 
prejudice  remained  unchecked. 

*McGlashan's   "  History  of  the  Donner  Party  "    (1879). 

t  The  old  Alcalde  records  are  not  in  existence,  but  some  of  the  sur- 
vivors of  the  party  remember  the  circumstance ;  and  Mrs.  Samuel  Kybert, 
now  of  Clarkville,  Eldorado  County,  was  a  witness  at  the  trial.  G.  F. 
McGlashan,  1879. 

r  358  1 


QUESTIONS  CONCERNING  KESEBERG 

There  were  other  peculiar  circumstances  connected 
with  this  much  accused  man  which  were  worthy  of  con- 
sideration, notably  the  following:  If,  as  reported, 
Keseberg  was  in  condition  to  walk  to  the  settlement, 
why  did  the  First  Relief  permit  him  to  remain  in  camp 
consuming  rations  that  might  have  saved  others? 

Messrs.  Reed  and  McCutchen  of  the  Second  Relief 
knew  the  man  on  the  plains,  and  had  they  regarded 
him  as  able  to  travel,  or  a  menace  to  life  in  camp, 
would  they  have  left  him  there  to  prey  on  women  and 
little  children,  like  a  wolf  in  the  fold! 

Messrs.  Eddy  and  Foster  of  the  Third  Relief  had 
travelled  with  him  on  the  plains,  starved  with  him  in 
camp,  and  had  had  opportunities  of  talking  with  him 
upon  their  return  to  the  cabins  too  late  to  rescue 
Jimmy  Eddy  and  Georgia  Foster.  Had  they  believed 
that  he  had  murdered  the  children,  would  those  two 
fathers  and  the  rest  of  their  party  have  taken  Simon 
Murphy  and  the  three  little  Donner  girls  and  left  Kese- 
berg alive  in  camp  with  lone,  sick,  and  helpless  Mrs. 
Murphy  —  Mrs.  Murphy  who  was  grandmother  of 
Georgia  Foster,  and  had  sole  charge  of  Jimmy  Eddy  ? 


r  ^"^^  I 


IV 

LEWIS   KESEBEKG 

IN  March,  1879,  while  collecting  material  for  his 
''  History  of  the  Donner  Party,''  Mr.  C.  F. 
McGlashan,  of  Truckee,  California,  visited  survivors 
at  San  Jose,  and  coming  to  me,  said: 

**  Mrs.  Houghton,  I  am  sorry  that  I  must  look  to 
you  and  your  sisters  for  answers  to  the  most  delicate 
and  trying  questions  relating  to  this  history.  I  refer 
to  the  death  of  your  mother  at  the  hand  of  Keseberg. ' ' 

He  was  so  surprised  and  shocked  as  I  replied,  **  I 
do  not  believe  that  Keseberg  was  responsible  for  my 
mother's  death,"  that  he  interrupted  me,  lost  for  a 
moment  the  manner  of  the  impartial  historian,  and 
with  the  directness  of  a  cross-questioning  attorney 
asked : 

**  Is  it  possible  that  Mrs.  George  Donner 's  daughter 
defends  the  murderer  of  her  mother?  *' 

And  when  I  replied,  **  We  have  no  proofs.  My 
mother's  body  was  never  found,"  he  continued 
earnestly, 

<  <  Why,  I  have  enough  evidence  in  this  note  book  to 
convict  that  monster,  and  I  can  do  it,  or  at  least  arouse 
such  public  sentiment  against  him  that  he  will  have  to 
leave  the  State." 

[3601 


KESEBERG'S  STORY 

Very  closely  he  followed  my  answering  words,  *  *  Mr. 
McGlashan,  from  little  girlhood  I  have  prayed  that 
Lewis  Keseberg  some  day  would  send  for  me  and  tell 
me  of  my  mother's  last  hours,  and  perhaps  give  a  last 
message  left  for  her  children,  and  I  firmly  believe  that 
my  prayer  will  be  granted,  and  I  woukl  not  like  you  to 
destroy  my  opportunity.  You  have  a  ready  pen,  but  it 
will  not  be  used  in  exact  justice  to  all  the  survivors,  as 
you  have  promised,  if  you  finish  your  work  without 
giving  Keseberg  also  a  chance  to  speak  for  himself. '^ 

After  a  moment's  reflection,  he  replied,  *^  I  am 
amazed;  but  your  wish  in  this  matter  shall  be 
respected." 

The  following  evening  Jie  wrote  from  San  Francisco : 

You  will  be  glad  to  know  that  I  have  put  Harry  N. 
Morse's  detective  agency  of  Oakland  upon  the  track  of  Kese- 
berg, and  if  found,  I  mean  to  take  steps  to  obtain  his 
confession. 

In  less  than  a  week  after  the  foregoing,  came  a  note 

from  him  which  tells  its  own  story. 

Sacramento,  Midnight,  April  4,  1879 

Mrs.  E,  p.  Houghton, 
Dear  Madam  : — 

Late  as  it  is,  I  feel  that  I  ought  to  tell  you  that  I  have 
spent  the  evening  with  Keseberg.  I  have  just  got  back,  and 
return  early  to-morrow  to  complete  my  interview.  By  merest 
accident,  while  tracing,  as  I  supposed,  the  record  of  his  deatli, 
I  found  a  clue  to  his  whereabouts.  After  dark  I  drove  six 
miles  and  found  him.  At  first  he  declined  to  tell  me  any- 
thing, but  somehow  I  melted  the  mood  with  which  he  seemed 
enwrapped,  and  he  talked  freely. 

He  swears  to  me  that  he  did  not  nuu'der  your  mother. 
He  declares  it  so  earnestly  that  1  cannot  doubt  his  veracity. 

[361]       • 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

To-morrow  I  intend  plying  him  closely  with  questions,  and 
by  a  rigid  system  of  cross  examination  will  detect  the  false- 
hood, if  there  is  one,  in  his  statement.  He  gives  chapter  after 
chapter  that  others  never  knew.  I  cannot  say  more  to-night, 
but  desire  that  you  write  me  (at  the  Cosmopolitan)  any  ques- 
tions you  might  wish  me  to  ask  Keseberg,  and  if  I  have  not 
already  asked  them,  I  will  do  so  on  my  return  from  San 
Francisco.  Yours  respectfully, 

C.  F.  McGlashan. 

After  his  second  interview  with  Keseberg  and  in 
response  to  my  urgent  appeal  for  full  details  of  every- 
thing relating  to  my  parents,  Mr.  McGlashan  wjote : 

I  wish  you  could  see  him.  He  will  talk  to  either  you  or 
me  at  any  time,  unless  other  influences  are  brought  to  bear 
upon  him.  If  I  send  word  for  him  to  come  to  Sacramento, 
he  will  meet  me  on  my  return.  If  you  and  your  husband 
could  be  there  on  Thursday  or  Friday  of  this  week,  I  could 
arrange  an  interview  at  the  hotel  that  would  be  all  you  could 
wish.  I  asked  him  especially  if  he  would  talk  to  you,  and  he 
said,  ''Yes." 

I  dared  not  tell  you  about  my  interview  until  I  had  your 
permission.     Even  now,  I  approach  the  task  tremblingly. 

Your  mother  was  not  murdered.  Your  father  died,  Kese- 
berg thinks,  about  two  weeks  after  you  left.  Your  mother 
remained  with  him  until  the  last  and  laid  him  out  tenderly, 
as  you  know. 

The  days  —  to  Keseberg  —  were  perfect  blanks.  Mrs. 
Murphy  died  soon  after  your  departure  with  Eddy,  and  he 
was  left  alone  —  alone  in  his  cabin  —  alone  with  the  dead  bod- 
ies which  he  could  not  have  lifted  from  the  floor,  because  of 
his  weakness,  even  had  he  desired.  The  man  sighs  and  shud- 
ders, and  great  drops  of  agony  gather  upon  his  brows  as  he 
endeavors  to  relate  the  details  of  those  terrible  days,  or  recall 
their  horrors.  Loneliness,  desolation  was  the  chief  element 
of  horror.    Alone  with  the  mutilated  dead ! 

One  night  he  sprang  up  in  affright  at  the  sound  of  some- 
thing moving  or  scratching  at  a  log  outside  his  cabin.  It  was 
some  time  before  he  could  understand  that  it  was  wolves  try- 
ing to  get  in. 

•        [ 362  ] 


LETTER  FROM  MR.  McGLASHAN         •  * 

One  night,  about  two  weeks  after  you  left,  a  knock  came 
at  his  door,  and  your  mother  entered.  To  this  lonely  wretch 
her  coming  seemed  like  an  angel's.  She  was  cold  and  wet  and 
freezing,  yet  her  first  words  w^ere,  that  she  must  see  her  chil- 
dren. Keseberg  understood  that  she  intended  to  start  out 
that  very  night,  and  soon  found  that  she  was  sliglitly 
demented.  She  kept  saying,  ' '  0  God !  I  must  see  my  children. 
I  must  go  to  my  children!  **  She  finally  consented  to  wait 
until  the  morning,  but  was  determined  that  nothing  should 
then  prevent  her  lonely  journey.  She  told  Keseberg  where 
her  money  was  concealed,  she  made  him  solemnly  promise 
that  he  would  get  the  money  and  take  it  to  her  children.  She 
would  not  taste  the  food  he  had  to  offer.  She  had  not  tasted 
human  flesh,  and  would  hardly  consent  to  remain  in  his  foul 
and  hideous  den.  Too  weak  and  chilled  to  move,  she  finally 
sank  down  on  the  floor,  and  he  covered  her  as  best  he  could 
with  blankets  and  feather  bed,  and  made  a  fire  to  warm  her ; 
but  it  was  of  no  avail,  she  had  received  her  death-chill,  and 
in  the  morning  her  spirit  had  passed  heavemv^ard. 

I  believe  Keseberg  tells  the  truth.  Your  mother  watched 
day  and  night  oy  your  lather's  bedside  until  the  end.  At 
nightfall  he  ceased  to  breathe,  and  she  was  alone  in  the  deso- 
late camp,  where  she  performed  the  last  sad  ministrations, 
and  then  her  duty  in  the  mountains  was  accomplished.  All 
the  smothered  yearnings  of  maternal  love  now  burst  forth 
with  full  power.  Out  into  the  darkness  and  night  she  rushed, 
without  waiting  for  the  morning.  *'  My  children,  I  must  see 
my  children !  " 

She  arrived  at  Keseberg *s  cabin,  overwrought  mentally, 
overtaxed  physically,  and  chilled  by  the  freezing  night  air. 
She  was  eager  to  set  forth  on  her  desperate  journey  without 
resting  a  moment.  I  can  see  her  as  he  described  her,  wring- 
ing her  hands  and  exclaiming  over  and  over  again,  **  I  mu.st 
see  my  children!  "  V"*^-'  ' 

The  story  told  by  Mrs.  Farnha-m  and  others  about  find- 
ing your  mother's  remains,  and  that  of  Thornton  concerning 
the  pail  of  blood,  are  unquestionably  false.  She  had  been 
dead  weeks,  and  Keseberg  confessed  to  me  that  no  part  of  her 
body  was  found  by  the  relief  (Fallon)  party. 

My  friend,  I  have  attempted  to  comply  with  your  request. 
More  than  once  during  this  evening  I  have  burst  into  tears. 

[  363  ] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

I  am  sorry  almost  that  I  attempted  so  mournful  a  task,  but 
you  will  pardon  the  pain  I  have  caused. 

Keseberg  is  a  powerful  man,  six  feet  in  height,  with  full 
bushy  beard,  thin  brown  locks,  and  high  forehead.  He  has 
blue  eyes  that  look  squarely  at  you  while  he  talks.  He  is 
sometimes  absent-minded  and  at  times  seems  almost  carried 
away  with  the  intensity  of  his  misery  and  desolation. 

He  speaks  and  writes  German,  French,  Spanish,  and  Eng- 
lish ;  and  his  selection  of  words  proves  him  a  scholar.  When 
I  first  asked  him  to  make  a  statement  which  I  could  reduce  to 
writing  he  urged :  ' '  What  is  the  use  of  making  a  statement  ? 
People  incline  to  believe  the  most  horrible  reports  concerning 
a  man;  they  will  not  credit  what  I  say  in  my  own  defence. 
My  conscience  is  clear.  I  am  an  old  man,  and  am  calmly 
awaiting  my  death.  God  is  my  judge,  and  it  long  ago  ceased 
to  trouble  me  that  people  shunned  and  slandered  me." 

He  finally  consented  to  make  the  desired  statement,  and 
in  speaking  of  your  family  he  continued :  ' '  Some  time  after 
Mrs.  George  Donner^s  death.  I  thought  I  had  gained  sufficient 
strength  to  redeem  the  pledge  I  had  made  her  before  her 
death.  I  went  to  Alder  Creek  Camp  to  get  the  money.  I  had 
a  difficult  journey.  The  wagons  of  the  Donners  were  loaded 
with  tobacco,  powder,  caps,  school-books,  shoes,  and  dry  goods. 
This  stock  was  very  valuable.  I  spent  the  night  there, 
searched  carefully  among  the  bales  and  bundles  of  goods, 
and  found  five  hundred  and  thirty-one  dollars.  Part  of  this 
sum  was  gold,  part  silver.  The  silver  I  buried  at  the  foot 
of  a  pine  tree,  a  little  way  from  camp.  One  of  the  lower 
branches  of  another  tree  reached  down  close  to  the  ground, 
and  appeared  to  point  to  the  spot.  I  put  the  gold  in  my 
pocket,  and  started  back  to  my  cabin;  got  lost,  and  in  cross- 
ing a  little  flat  the  snow  suddenly  gave  way,  and  I  sank  down 
almost  to  my  arm-pits.  After  great  exertion  I  raised  myself 
out  of  a  snow-covered  stream,  and  went  round  on  a  hillside 
and  continued  my  journey.  At  dark,  and  completely 
exhausted,  and  almost  dead,  I  came  in  sight  of  the  Graves's 
cabin,  and  sometime  after  dark  staggered  into  my  own.  My 
clothes  were  wet,  and  the  night  was  so  cold  that  my  gar- 
ments were  frozen  stiff.  I  did  not  build  a  fire  nor  get  any- 
thing to  eat,  just  rolled  myself  up  in  the  bed-clothes,  and 
shivered;  finally  fell  asleep,  and  did  not  waken  until  late  in 

[3641 


LETTER  FROM  MR.  McGLASHAN 

the  morning.  Then  I  saw  my  camp  was  in  most  inexplicable 
confusion ;  everything  about  the  cabin  was  torn  up  and  scat- 
tered about,  trunks  broken  open;  and  my  wife's  jewellery,  my 
cloak,  my  pistol  and  ammunition  was  missing.  I  thought 
Indians  had  been  there.  Suddenly  I  heard  human  voices.  1 
hurried  up  to  the  surface  of  the  snow,  and  saw  white  men 
approaching.  I  was  overwhelmed  with  joy  and  gratitude.  I 
had  suffered  so  much  and  so  long,  that  I  could  scarcely  believe 
my  senses.  Imagine  my  astonishment  upon  their  arrival  to 
be  greeted,  not  with  a  '  Good-morning  '  or  a  kind  word, 
but  with  a  gruff,  insolent  demand,  'Where  is  Donner's 
money  ? ' 

"  I  told  them  they  ought  to  give  me  something  to  eat,  and 
that  I  would  talk  with  them  afterwards ;  but  no,  they  insisted 
that  I  should  tell  them  about  Donner's  money.  I  asked  who 
they  were,  and  where  they  came  from,  but  they  replied  by 
threatening  to  kill  me  if  I  did  not  give  up  the  money.  They 
threatened  to  hang  or  shoot  me.  At  last  I  told  them  that  I 
had  promised  Mrs.  Donner  that  I  would  carry  her  money  to 
her  children,  and  I  proposed  to  do  so,  unless  shown  some 
authority  by  which  they  had  a  better  claim.  This  so  exas- 
perated them  that  they  acted  as  though  they  were  going  to 
kill  me.  I  offered  to  let  them  bind  me  as  a  prisoner,  and  take 
me  before  Alcalde  Sinclair  at  Sutter  ^s  Fort,  and  I  promised 
that  I  would  then  tell  all  I  knew  about  the  money.  They 
would  listen  to  nothing,  however,  and  finally  I  told  them 
where  they  would  find  the  silver,  and  gave  them  the  gold. 
After  I  had  done  this  they  showed  me  a  document  from 
Alcalde  Sinclair,  by  which  they  were  to  receive  a  certain  pro- 
portion of  all  moneys  and  properties  which  they  rescued. 
Those  men  treated  me  with  great  unkindness.  Mr.  Tucker 
was  the  only  one  who  took  my  part  or  befriended  me.  When 
they  started  oVer  the  mountains,  each  man  carried  two  bales 
of  goods.  They  had  silks,  calicoes,  and  delaines  from  the 
Donners,  and  other  articles  of  great  value.  Each  man  would 
carry  one  bundle  a  little  way,  lay  it  down,  and  come  back 
and  get  the  other  bundle.  In  this  way  they  passed  over  the 
snow  three  times.  I  could  not  keep  up  with  them,  because  I 
was  so  weak,  but  managed  to  come  up  to  their  camp  every 
night." 

[3651 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

Upon  receipt  of  this  communication  I  wrote  Mr.  Mc- 
Glashan  from  San  Jose  that  I  was  nerved  for  the  or- 
deal, but  that  he  should  not  permit  me  to  start  on  that 
momentous  journey  if  his  proposed  arrangements  were 
at  all  doubtful,  and  that  he  should  telegraph  me  at 
once. 

Alas!  my  note  miscarried;  and,  believing  that 
his  proposal  had  not  met  my  approval,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
McGlashan  returned  to  Truckee  a  day  earlier  than  ex- 
pected. Two  weeks  later  he  returned  the  envelope,  its 
postmarks  showing  what  had  happened. 

It  was  not  easy  to  gain  the  consent  of  my  husband  to 
a  meeting  with  Keseberg.  He  dreaded  its  effect  on 
me.    He  feared  the  outcome  of  the  interview. 

However,  on  May  16,  1879,  he  and  I,  by  invitation, 
joined  Mr.  and  Mrs.  McGlashan  at  the  Golden  Eagle 
Hotel  in  Sacramento.  The  former  then  announced  that 
although  Keseberg  had  agreed  by  letter  to  meet  us 
there,  he  had  that  morning  begged  to  be  spared  the 
mortification  of  coming  to  the  city  hotel,  where  some 
one  might  recognize  him,  and  as  of  old,  point  the  finger 
of  scorn  at  him.  After  some  deliberation  as  to  how  I 
would  accept  the  change,  Mr.  McGlashan  had  acceeded 
to  the  old  man^s  wish,  that  we  drive  to  the  neat  little 
boarding  house  at  Brighton  next  morning,  where  we 
could  have  the  use  of  the  parlor  for  a  private  inter- 
view. In  compliance  with  this  arrangement  we  four 
were  at  the  Brighton  hotel  at  the  appointed  time. 

Mr.  McGlashan  and  my  husband  went  in  search  of 
Keseberg,  and  after  some  delay  returned,  saying: 

[  366  ] 


MEETING  WITH  KESEBERG 

*'  Keseberg  cannot  overcome  his  strong  feeling 
against  a  meeting  in  a  public  house.  He  has  tidied  up 
a  vacant  room  in  the  brewery  adjoining  the  house 
where  he  lives  with  his  afflicted  children.  It  being  Sun- 
day, he  knows  that  no  one  will  be  about  to  disturb  us. 
Will  you  go  there?  '^ 

I  could  only  reply,  ^^  I  am  ready. '^ 

My  husband,  seeing  my  lips  tremble  and  knowing  the 
intensity  of  my  suppressed'  emotion,  hastened  to  as- 
sure me  that  he  had  talked  with  the  man,  and  been  im- 
pressed by  his  straightforward  answers,  and  that  I 
need  have  no  dread  of  meeting  or  talking  with  him. 

When  we  met  at  his  door,  Mr.  McGlashan  introduced 
us.  We  bowed,  not  as  strangers,  not  as  friends,  nor 
did  we  shake  hands.  Our  thoughts  were  fixed  solely 
on  the  purpose  that  had  brought  us  together.  He  in- 
vited us  to  enter,  led  the  way  to  that  room  which  I  had 
been  told  he  had  swept  and  furnished  for  the  occasion 
with  seats  for  five.  His  first  sentence  made  us  both 
forget  that  others  were  present.  It  opened  the  way 
at  once. 

'^  Mr.  McGlashan  has  told  me  that  you  have  ques- 
tions you  wish  to  ask  me  yourself  about  what  hap- 
pened in  the  mountain  cabin." 

Still  standing,  and  looking  up  into  his  face,  I  replied : 
^  ^  Yes,  for  the  eye  of  God  and  your  eyes  witnessed  my 
mother's  last  hours,  and  I  have  come  to  ask  you,  in  the 
presence  of  that  other  Witness,  when,  where,  and  how 
she  died.  I  want  you  to  tell  me  all,  and  so  truly  tliat 
there  shall  be  no  disappointment  for  me,  nor  remorse 

[367] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

and  denials  for  yon  in  yonr  last  hour.  Tell  it  now,  so 
that  you  will  not  need  to  send  for  me  to  hear  a  differ- 
ent  story  then. ' ' 

I  took  the  chair  he  proffered,  and  he  placed  his  own 
opposite  and  having  gently  reminded  me  of  the  love 
and  respect  the  members  of  the  Donner  Party  bore 
their  captain  and  his  wife,  earnestly  and  feelingly,  he 
told  me  the  story  as  he  had  related  it  to  Mr. 
McGlashan. 

Then,  before  I  understood  his  movement,  he  had 
sunk  upon  his  knees,  saying  solemnly, 

'^  On  my  knees  before  you,  and  in  the  sight  of  God, 
1  want  to  assert  my  innocence.^' 

I  could  not  have  it  thus.  I  bade  him  rise,  and  stand 
with  me  in  the  presence  of  the  all-seeing  Father.  Ex- 
tending my  upturned  hand,  I  bade  him  lay  his  own 
right  hand  upon  it,  then  covering  it  with  my  left,  I 
bade  him  speak.    Slowly,  but  unhesitatingly,  he  spoke  : 

'^  Mrs.  Houghton,  if  I  had  murdered  your  mother, 
would  I  stand  here  with  my  hand  between  your  hands, 
look  into  your  pale  face,  see  the  tear-marks  on  your 
cheeks,  and  the  quiver  of  your  lips  as  you  ask  the  ques- 
tion ?  No,  God  Almighty  is  my  witness,  I  am  innocent 
of  your  mother's  death!  I  have  given  you  the  facts 
as  I  gave  them  to  the  Fallon  Party,  as  I  told  them  at 
Sutter's  Fort,  and  as  I  repeated  them  to  Mr.  Mc- 
Glashan. You  will  hear  no  change  from  my  death-bed, 
for  what  I  have  told  you  is  true." 

There,  with  a  man's  honor  and  soul  to  uncover,  I 
had  scarcely  breathed  while  he  spoke.    I  watched  the 

[  368  ] 


INNOCENCE  OF  KESEBERG 

expression  of  his  face,  his  words,  his  hands.  His  eyes 
did  not  turn  from  my  face ;  his  hand  between  mine  lay 
as  untrembling  as  that  of  a  child  in  peaceful  sleep ;  and 
so,  unflinchingly  Lewis  Keseberg  passed  the  ordeal 
which  would  have  made  a  guilty  man  quake. 

I  felt  the  truth  of  his  assertion,  and  told  him  that 
if  it  would  be  any  comfort  to  him  at  that  late  day  to 
know  that  Tamsen  Donner's  daughter  believed  him 
innocent  of  her  murder,  he  had  that  assurance  in  my 
words,  and  that  I  would  maintain  that  belief  so  long 
as  my  lips  retained  their  power  of  speech. 

Tears  glistened  in  his  eyes  as  he  uttered  a  heartfelt 
*^  Thank  you!  "  and  spoke  of  the  comfort  the  recollec- 
tion of  this  meeting  would  be  to  him  during  the  re- 
maining years  of  his  life. 

Before  our  departure,  Mr.  McGlashan  asked  Kese- 
berg  to  step  aside  and  show  my  husband  the  scars  left 
by  the  wound  which  had  prevented  his  going  to  the 
settlement  with  the  earlier  refugees.  There  was  a 
mark  of  a  fearful  gash  which  had  almost  severed  the 
lieel  from  the  foot  and  left  a  troublesome  deformity. 
One  could  easily  realize  how  slow  and  tedious  its  heal- 
ing must  have  been,  and  Keseberg  assured  us  that 
walking  caused  excruciating  pain  even  at  the  time  the 
Third  Relief  Corps  left  camp. 

His  clothing  was  threadbare,  but  neat  and  clean. 
One  could  not  but  feel  that  he  was  poor,  yet  he  cour- 
teously but  positively  declined  the  assistance  whicli, 
privately,  I  offered  him.  In  bidding  him  good-bye,  I 
remarked  that  we  might  not  see  one  another  again  on 

[369] 


THE  EXPEDITION  OF  THE  DONNER  PARTY 

earth,  and  he  replied  pathetically,  ^^  Don't  say  that, 

for  I  hope  this  may  not  be  our  last  meeting. ' ' 

I  did  not  see  Keseberg  again.    Years  later,  I  learned 

that  he  had  passed  away ;  and  in  answer  to  inquiries  I 

received  the  following  personal  note  from  Dr.  G.  A. 

White,   Medical    Superintendent    of   the    Sacramento 

County  Hospital : 

Lewis  Keseberg  died  here  on  September  3,  1895;  aged 
81  years.  He  left  no  special  message  to  any  one.  His  death 
was  peaceful. 


THE    EXD 


INDEX 


INDEX 


Academy  of  Pacific  Coast  History, 

336. 
Altemera,  Padre,  187. 
American  Fur  Company,  27. 
American  Tract  Society,  10, 
Arguello,    Dona    Coneepcion,    302, 

303. 

Bartlett,  Washington  A.,  93,  94. 
Benton,  Eev.  J.  A.,  324. 
Benton,  Thomas  H.,  1. 
Boggs,  ex-Governor  of  Missouri,  9, 

14,  2o,  218. 
Bond,  Frances,  292,  311. 
Boone,  Alphonso,  9. 
Breen,  Patrick,  32,  119;   diary  of, 

68,  336,   345. 
Brenheim,  Adolph,  97. 
Brunner,  Christian,   150,   173,  296, 

297,  318-320. 
Brunner,     "Grandma,"      147-149, 

317,  327;  and  Napoleon,  243-246. 
Bryant,  Edwin,  12,  16,  27,  30,  307- 

310,  358. 

Cady,  Charles,  104. 
California  Star,  140,  307,  336. 
Camp  of  Death,  83. 
Chamberlain,  Charlotte  (Mrs.  Wm. 

E.),  305. 
Chamberlain,  William  E.,  305. 
Church,  Mission  service,  233. 
Civil  War,  324. 
Clark,  Nicholas,  104,  349. 
Cody,  Bill,  322. 
Coffemeir,  Edward,  97,  134. 
Coon,   William,   97. 
Curtis,  James,  97. 

Del,  John,  134. 
Denison,  Eliza,  306. 
"Diary  of  Patrick  Breen,  One  of 
the  bonner  Party,"  336. 


Dofar,  Matthew,  104. 

Doland,  Patrick,  33,  73,  80,  81. 

Donner,  •  Elitha,    3,    132-137,    146, 

253,    262. 
Donner,  Frances,   3,   251,  304. 
Donner,  George,  2,  4,  25,  137,  250, 

309. 
Donner,  Mrs.  George,  2,  5,  33,  lOi", 

111,  137,  309;  letters,  24-26. 
Donner,  Georgia,  3,  161. 
Donner,  Jacob,  2,  4,  8,  60,  68,  69. 
Donner,    Leanna,    3,    132-137,    153, 

254. 
Donner,  Mary,  128,  313. 
Donner  Party,  32,  33,  337,  338. 
Dozier,  Tamsen  Eustis,  see  Douner, 

Mrs.  George. 

Eddy,  WilUam,  32,  73,  78,  97,  119. 

Fallon,    Thomas,   134;    diarv,   310, 

352-356. 
Fitch,  Capt.,  184. 
"Forlorn  Hope"  Party,  73,  76-90. 
Fortune,  Padre,  187. 
Fosdick,  Jay,  35,  73,  87. 
Foster,  John,  97. 

Foster,  William,  32,  73,   119,   134. 
Francis,  Allen,  4,  6,  8,  23. 
Fremont,  John   C,  1,  4. 
Frisbie,  Capt.,  195,  242;  marriage 

of,  247. 
Fuller,  John,  94. 

Glover,  Aguilla,  76,  342. 

Gold,  discovery,  192;  early  min- 
ings, 204-206;   seekers,  217. 

Graves,  W.  F.,  35,  79-81,   134. 

Grayson,  Mrs.  Andrew  J..  169, 
170. 

Great*  Overland   Caravan.   4. 

Greenwood,  "Old  Trapper,"  94, 
95. 


373] 


INDEX 


Halloran,   Luke,   33,   36,    37. 

Hardcoop,  ,  33,  50. 

Hastings,  Lansford  W.,  4,   31. 
Herron,  Walter,  33,  49. 
Hook,   Solomon,  117. 
Hooker,    Capt.   Joe,    195. 
Houghton,    S.    O.,    312,    314,    315, 
324. 

Independence,  Mo.,  8,   10,  11. 

Indians,  as  guides,  15;  Sioux,  26, 
28;  on  raids,  54;  as  saviours, 
88;    at    ''grub-feast,"    162-164. 

James,  Noah,   70. 
vTondro,   Joseph,    104. 
Josephine,    Empress,    243. 

Kerns,   Capt.,   92. 
Keseberg,     Lewis,     32,     136,     139- 
141,   230,   355,    360-370. 

Land-grants,   Mexican,  5. 
Leese,   Jacob,   184. 
^'Life  and  Days  of  General  John 
A.   Sutter,"   336. 


of  territory,   1,   3. 
Maury,  William  L.,  95. 
McCoon,  Perry,   145. 
McCutchen,  William,  32,  37,  66. 
McGlashan,   C.   F.,  360-369. 
McKinstrey,      Col.      George,      310, 

346. 
Mervine,  Capt.,  93,  95. 
Mexican  War,  93,  193. 
Miller,  Hiram,  104,  119,  141,  251. 
Moutrey,  E.   S.,  96. 
Murphy,  Mrs.  Lavina,  32,  110. 
Murphy,  William  G.,  347. 

Napoleon,  243. 

Oakley,  Howard,  119. 
Oatman,  Eugene,  306. 
"Oregon  and  California,"  17. 

Packwood,  Mr.  and  Mrs.,  157. 
Pike,  William,   32,   36,  57. 
Pony  Express,  first,  321-323. 
Poor,    Elizabeth,    218;    letter    to, 

234. 
Prudon,  Major,  184. 


Beed,  James  P.,  4,  8,  48,  66, 
Belief  Party,  First,  97,  341. 


313. 


Belief  Party,   Fourth,   134. 
Belief  Party,  Second,  104,  345. 
Belief  Party,  Third,  119. 
Bhinehart,    Joseph,    33,   68. 
Bhodes,  Daniel,  9/. 
Bhodes,    John,    97,    134. 

Bichardson,  ,   93. 

Bichey,   D.,   97. 

Bichey,  Col.  M.  D.,  89. 

Eobinson,  Kate,  312. 

Bobinson,  Judge  Bobert,  306,  316. 

Bobinson,  Hon.  Tod,  306. 

Eussell,  Col.,  »,  10,  12,  25-27. 

Sacramento,  288. 

Sacramento  Union,  291,  296,  305, 
306,    320. 

School,  first  in  California,  223, 
225;  Miss  Doty's,  234;  St. 
Mary's  Hall,  260;  Miss  Hutch- 
inson's, 260;  St.  Catherine's, 
297;   Jefferson  Grammar,   306. 

Schoonover,  T.  J.,  336. 

Sherman,  Gen.   Wm.  T.,  266. 

Shoemaker,   Samuel,    33.   68. 

Sinclair,  John,  91,   96,  145. 

Sloat,    Commodore,    188. 

Smallpox,  255-257. 

Smith,  General,  197. 

Smith,  James,  33,  69. 

Snyder,  John,  35,  48. 

Sonoma,  187-191;  last  visit  to, 
326-331. 

Springfield  Journal,  4,   8,   23. 

Stanton,  Charles,  33,  36,  37,  79. 

Stark,  John,  118,  134. 

Starved  Camp,  119. 

Stone,  Charles,  104,  119. 

Sutter,  Captain  John  A.,  37,  38, 
92,  96,  311. 

Sutter's  Fort,  131-138. 

Swift,  Margaret,  306. 

Thanksgiving       celebration,       261, 

262. 
Thornton,    J.    Q.,    9,    16;    extracts 

from  journal,  39,  54,  85,  87,  89, 

95,  121,  342. 
"Thrilling    Events    in    California 

History,"  310. 
Toll,  Agnes,  306. 
' '  Topographical       Eeport,       with 

Maps  Attached,"  4. 
"Travels       Among      the       Bocky 

Mountains,       Through       Oregon 

and  California,"  4,  32. 


374] 


NDEX 


Trubode,    John    Baptiste,    34,    62, 

220,  343,  349,  350. 
Tucker,  Daniel,  334. 
Tucker,  George,  97. 
Tucker,  Racine,  97. 
Turner,  John,  104. 

Upton,  Nellie,  306. 

Vallejo,  Mariano  G.,  95,  184,  187. 

Webster,    Daniel,    305. 


''What  I  SaAv  in  California,"  12, 

307. 
White,  Dr.  G.  A.,  370. 
White,  Henry  A.,   306. 

Wolfinger,   ,   33,    55. 

Wood  worth.   Midshipman,   94,   116, 

127. 

Yost,  Daniel,  306. 
Yount,   George,   94. 

Zabriskie,  Annie,   306. 


iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiyiiiiiliiiiiiii 


